


For You, an Empire

by ObsidianEagle



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec is the mysterious man he meets during his kingdom's celebration, Angst, Enemies But Also Lovers, Forbidden Love, Game of Thrones-esque, King Magnus Bane, M/M, Medieval AU, Pen Pals, i really dont know how to tag this one, technically slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-04-14 06:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14130144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianEagle/pseuds/ObsidianEagle
Summary: Magnus Bane is the True King of the six empires, ruling with one goal in mind - for the equality, peace and happiness of his people.He is a man of many luxuries, but Magnus has no time to indulge in any form of excitement that doesn’t involve politics, because at the end of the day - this is his job, his legacy. A King must serve his duty, not take advantage of it.One fateful day, this all changes, where the cage around his heart starts to warp. A man from a neighbouring kingdom, hazel eyes with the hint of a past his fingers itch to solve.Alec Lightwood sparked something, and it was a change neither of them saw coming.





	1. beginning of an end

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blasphemous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blasphemous/gifts).



> well LOOK WHAT DAY IT IS! Happy Birthday Yara! this one is for you!
> 
> no lie, this fic was two different things entirely before it got to this. it was an infamous au, then some weird bakery date or whatever I was writing, and then this! HOPEFULLY this is something you'll love, and I wish you the happiest of birthdays! you deserve every ounce of happiness, and I hope this brings some to you :') 
> 
> enjoy! <3

Gold runs through the rivers of empires, thick and polluting before the eyes of inhabitants. Wealth blinds them, constricts their breathing as they crawl along the floor for more and _more._ Even when their hands can no longer hold the deemed objects that control societies, they keep trying. Nothing is a strong as a man’s ultimate greed for that ticket of bought happiness.

Perhaps, there is one other thing. A feeling.

It’s just as constricting, but not quite the violence one would expect when using that word to describe something. In fact, it’s probably the least effective way in terms of relating to it, but Magnus Bane couldn’t label it any other way when he saw Alec Lightwood.

A normal day, his royal duties as the King of his Empire to stroll the town and greet children who greet just as enthusiastically back. Overall, his kingdom is the strongest of the realm, decorated in gold and red that doesn’t drown men or paint the walls from battles. His kingdom celebrates peace, equality.

Here, in these walls, people are free to live as they please. Talk to whom you please, friend whom you please. Kiss, love, have a fling with anyone these people desire. Bane isn’t one to sink into these luxuries, to breathe in the scent of a graceful woman's perfume, to listen to the whispers and pleas of a man below him.

He has no time to indulge in sex, alcohol, or any other form of excitement that doesn’t involve politics, because at the end of the day - this is his job, his legacy. A King must serve his duty, not take advantage of it.

But the last time he did give his heart to someone, they broke it. No, they _crushed_ it.

The one person Magnus trusted was a lie, simply hypnotizing him with their lips and their hands to sneak their way to the throne. He’s given up on finding a love that loves _him_ instead of the wealth and power that follow behind him. What he owns isn’t important to Magnus, that’s one of his defenses. Magnus cares more about his people, being a good role model and bringing them a life of prosper and peace.

If Magnus doesn’t keep a watchful eye over the six kingdoms, his duty as a royal leader won’t be worthy of him anymore. That’s what Magnus thinks, constantly reviewing his choices and goals to see where he can take his empire. If he doesn’t live up to a King his people want to follow, then why even bother keeping this title? Even despite people thinking that he’s hard working, some still believe he spends those nights away with multiple people worshipping him in bed, but he spends most of that time taking care of himself. Magnus enjoys the silence, the peace of letting that King title bleed away for a matter of hours as he sleeps. Magnus can finally _breathe_ when he shuts those bedroom doors, to let himself be _Magnus,_ letting the glamour fall from his eyes so he can sleep without irritation.

His city is blooming with more colours than usual, but that’s part of the celebration. Magical lanterns fill the air, trumpets sounded as the sun breaks through the horizon line, the glory of its colours painting a rose gold over the lands of this magical world. Almost immediately, the air becomes thick with magic, the day’s event one of history that’s been tradition through the ages.

Graduation day for the new warriors of his army. It was also something else, but Magnus denied its existence.

Magnus Bane is grace, beauty and power all mixed into one. A delicate cape falls from his shoulders, slightly transparent with flowers sewn into the fabric in various places. A choker sits around his neck, completely gold with small dragon teeth decorated along it. His hands are covered in golden and silver rings, glittering when the sun catches them at just the right angle. Tight trousers fit him nicely, grey in colour but with the golden embroidery of flowers and dragons decorated down the sides of his legs. His shirt is silk, beige with the same golden stitching around his collar and swirling up his arms. The sleeves have cuffs, tightening the fabric around his wrists so that the flowy nature of his shirt can work. Edges of his sleeves drape down, following behind him as well as the cape, the fabric gradually becoming more and more transparent towards the floor, where it ends in white details and subtle indications of stars.

Even his hair is beautiful, the tips dyed gold, fringe falling to the side as dark eyeliner ever so gently frames his eyes. The wings are gold eyeliner, golden glitter applied gently over the top to make them stand out just that bit more. When combined with his true eyes, he does indeed look like the King of Dragons, but in public he shies away from using them.

No man, woman, or those who choose not to label will see them - but oh, how he was wrong.

Oh how Alec Lightwood swept him off his feet that fateful day.

A day almost like today.

Magnus watches the sun rise through his bedroom window, the molten gold of his eyes shining proud as he adjusts the cuffs of his attire over his wrists, patting them down and turning his attention back to the task at hand. He needs to find Ragnor and see how preparations are going, especially if this day is going to be a success, everything needs to be correct.

Magnus soon opens the door to his room, greeted with a Ragnor that was just about to knock.

“Ah, good morning, my King,” Ragnor bows ever so slightly with his head to respect his friends authority, “I see you are ready for today’s celebrations more than usual?”

He’s referring to what Magnus is wearing, because as he walks out, the rose gold that cuts through the long, vertical windows of the grand hall paints his clothes in a soft glow.

“Of course, my friend,” he nods at Ragnor’s bow, not necessarily wanting his friend to greet him that way, but Ragnor insists he respects him as any other man or woman would, “I must beat my previous years attire if I am to impress.”

“My King, I’m sure you don’t need to make much effort to impress people. This is your kingdom’s day, they wouldn’t dare to throw dirt at you for wearing a gown and fluffy slippers to the celebrations.” Linking an arm with him, Ragnor escorts him down the main hallway.

Ragnor is a bit less showy, settling for a dark green suit laced in various emerald embroidery. Magnus moves an arm not linked to Ragnor’s to settle a hand on his friend’s arm, guiding him to the public exit of Magnus’ castle.

“What King would I be if I rocked up in fluffy slippers to the grandest of celebrations?” Magnus laughs at Ragnor’s silly statement, making the much older looking man smile as he looks at him, “but I do appreciate your thought for my comfort.”

“What best friend would I be without that?” That in turn makes Magnus smile, patting his friends arm as he turns his attention back to where they’re walking.

“You have always been my trusted friend, Ragnor. Without you and Catarina I would truly be at a loss.”

“Rubbish talk, that is. You have built this empire on your own, we simply stopped you from making very stupid mistakes.” Ragnor can feel that thick aura Magnus releases, the one that screams self doubt, plaguing him even after all these years.

“And what would that be?” Magnus takes his hand off Ragnor’s arm to adjust a dragon ear cuff on his left ear, turning his head to admire the interior decorations of his castle that seemed to form overnight.

“Making every house completely gold was one of them,” Ragnor sighs, remembering the day where Magnus was going through new ideas to make the city better for his people, “I explicitly remember the look on Catarina’s face as she sighed at you.”

“All it would take is my magic, the click of two fingers.”

 _“Yes,_ but it would also crash our entire economy. And let’s not forget people who would destroy their own houses so they can hand in that gold and obtain more money. Our city may be peaceful, but money is always a man's weakness.”

“Hmm,” Magnus nods, knowing very well how much money can change the outcome of most conversations, if not all, “it seems you proved my point while also bringing me down at the same time.”

“It was you who said to learn from mistakes, my friend,” as they reach the door, Magnus and Ragnor both place a hand on it, “and we’ve all learned the hard way.”

The King can’t help but agree, rightly so from the years of war he’s seen plague this land. Frankly, their side of the world is peaceful, the inhabitants and animals present here content with their life. As for the empires that rise up across the sea from this one, Magnus only knows information from scouts and whispers in the wind of what hell they’re putting their people through.

“Are you ready, Magnus?” Ragnor is one of very few who know his real name, and as he hears it, the King has a smile on his face.

“Alwa-”

His wards shift, Magnus curling his fingers towards his palm when he feels a familiar presence near.

“My King,” Ragnor already knows who it is, “you don’t have enough time to go see him before the ceremonies begin.”

“Nonsense,” Magnus unlinks from his arm, placing one hand against his chest, “let the King indulge a little before he has to make adult decisions?”

Ragnor simply sighs, placing both arms behind his back and taking a step away, knowing that Magnus’ heart is still fighting between his loyalties and dreams. He can see the prick of pain in the King’s eyes, the way the shards of his brown eyes seem so dull compared to the days where he spends it with the Lightwood.

“I’ll be the biggest distraction possible,” he smiles, the older man nodding and gesturing his hand back into the main corridors of the castle, “just don’t plan to run away with him, not yet at least. That will be a political nightmare I for one will never forgive you for.”

Taking two steps forward, he pats Ragnor’s cheek, giving a smile that’s ever so slightly accompanied by the moisture of his eyes.

“Thank you, my friend. I will forever be in your debt.”

“Oh, _you are._ Immortality remember?” snickering at his own joke, Ragnor’s smile quickly fades to a frown as he ushers him on, laughter approaching from outside, “now quickly, go!”

 

_\---_

The more he walks away, the more his heart begins to breathe, to uncover itself from the shadows of his rib cage. Even his cape dances with more fluidity, freedom finally weaving its way into Magnus’ skin as he walks towards his royal garden. Gold may be commanded at his fingertips, to buy his way out of situations or to help his people, but it can’t buy his heart the happiness it wants.

A month ago, Magnus Bane was faced with a decision.

The empires have been shaky for years, a wire being pulled thin to breaking point. Any sudden change in balance will _snap_ and _break_ every dam holding the blood back that will undoubtedly spill, Magnus being the final tipping point in that scenario.

He’s been asked to marry to a woman, a princess of a neighbouring empire. A woman who will never receive the love she desires back. Magnus can’t do that to her, he won’t. She’s a beautiful young woman in her late twenties and full of life, but she wasn’t the one for Magnus. Living a lie is something he’s come to hate, and as her family arrives outside from a distant land, this day is his last to decide.

A war, or give his heart away to the cold.

As the High King, King of Dragons, Prince of Hell, Magnus carries multitudes of weight on his shoulders. There was once a day where Magnus thought he would fall to his knees, sinking through the floor and swallowed by the molten gold he never desired in the first place.

But there is one thing he desires, wants to be consumed and loved by.

A storytelling pattern of hazel, specks of detail only noticed when lips threaten to brush in the sweetest of dances lovers can make. The hands of dedication and work for his family, scars tainting his skin that carry a burden more heavy than gold. An eldest son, a brother, and Magnus’ secret love affair.

On a day similar to today, where a marriage between two kingdoms occured, the neighbouring empire sent all of its people to witness the bind of two souls. Magnus was far more interested in the new people he had the chance of meeting, from intelligent scholars to mischevious little children who try to pluck the flowers from his cape.

One of those kids was named Max, smiling brightly like he did absolutely nothing wrong as Magnus turned around.

An older man apologised, not looking at Magnus as he pulls what now seems to be his little brother away from the King. Magnus was about to say that the flowers will bring him luck, but his words fail him as soon as his world is enthralled by hazel, by ebony locks that curl to one side of his head.

Magnus held the man’s stare for what seemed like his immortal lifetime, a guard of his army asking if he was alright eventually snapping him from his trance. The man apologised again, and the deep thrum of his voice was one that the King wanted to hear so much more. And of course, his interests had to focus on the day, not the cute farm boy from the neighbouring empire.

Luck has its way of finding loopholes, however, as the same small flower stealer asked every guard he could find to give the flower back to the King. His taller brother follows after, of course, ever watchful and protecting him from the inevitable strangers no one can ever really trust.

One by one, guards eventually pointed them in the direction of the True King himself, admiring a dragon that was visiting their lands.

Alec can remember this moment more than most in his life.

Magnus was one with the dragon, his nails treading lightly against the scales of its neck, the deep hum of appreciation brewing in the dragon's throat. Scales red, eyes bright and blooming with power, a similar colour to the eyes Alec caught when the sun just painted over the side of Magnus’ face.

The glamour of his brown eyes dissolves under the sharp fraction of light, hinting at a gold brighter than the material itself. Becoming brown again as he gracefully controls his turn towards Alec, Magnus’ smile could cure disease, his clothes being the definition of beauty and royalty. Alec found himself checking twice, almost forgetting to breathe as he placed a hand to his chest.

And that did not go unnoticed by the King, smile growing into a small smirk as he steps away from the mythical beast, his attention burgled by the man in front of him. Max was there first, but it took Alec breaking his trance as he bowed to notice him.

He forgot he was a King, if only for a second. Amazingly, that second was enough to give him the freedom he hasn’t tasted in a very long time.

“King Bane! I am here to return the flower I stole. Your generosity should not blind my mistakes.” speaks Max, his young eyes bright with a future he can’t recall seeing in his older brother.

Magnus found himself blinking, rather saddened by the thought of this small boy pulling him from his trance. That feeling of two humans simply admiring one another, the gentle whispers only the wind can hear as it’s carried to their hearts - locked away for years until it shatters and loses that hold.

Not this time, perhaps.

Magnus finally addresses the small boy as he too bows to the King, albeit after a reminding nudge from his big brother.

But the King did not hold the flower for long.

Magnus told the farm boy to stand.

“And who might you be?”

“I am a farmer from Anamire, King Bane.” A small gesture from Magnus’ fingers would bring him to a stand, the gulp in his throat making the skin move over muscle as Magnus follows with his eyes.

“A farm boy, you say?” Magnus looks again, eyes ever watchful for every little detail he’ll make, “and what is your name?”

His _name?_

Who would ever want his name?

“My name is Alec, King.”

“No last name?” There’s a twinge in Alec’s eye, the secret of something more as Magnus’ words strike him in the chest.

“I-”

“Do not tell me if you’re not comfortable, Alec.” Magnus interrupts him, but with good intentions to not dig up a past that he doesn’t want to bury again. He smiles as he takes the flower from Max, nodding to him gently as a thank you.

The combined feeling of safety and confusion push through Alec’s organs. A voice so silky and confident shouldn’t be saying his name, especially one of royalty that wasn’t exactly his King at all. Magnus was the True King, but if any of the warriors from the one he serves heard him, heads would roll.

Not all Kings are as forgiving as Bane. Not at all as handsome, respectful and as magical as Magnus Bane.

“I may be a King, but I will give you the same respect as I would desire.”

Alec doesn’t know what to say. How could anyone? To stand before Magnus is a gift in itself, and what was meant to be quick return of a stolen flower was becoming an invitation.

“And I am not your King,” Magnus walks forward, Alec glueing his feet to the floor as he wasn’t ordered to move, “the King of Anamire is.”

Max has been watching the two share gazes for more than a minute. He can’t remember a time where Alec has been so conflicted in emotion, feeling his brothers stomach churn with this sickness of not knowing what to do. This is all new, and he hates not being able to understand these feelings, to control them.

Magnus places the flower Max gave back to him between the side of Alec’s head and the top curve of his ear. The smile on the King’s face is immediate, the gold of said flower bringing out orange in the hazel that was previously hidden before.

“But you are the True King.” Alec doesn’t react to the flower, but he knows Magnus is still looking.

And then he looks to him. Alec’s stomach _flips._

“A man who doesn’t follow his King can be considered a coward, do you not know that?”

Alec has to bite his tongue, but he doesn’t bite hard enough to stop himself.

“And a King who uses money and blood as power will never be mine.”

Those words truly shock him. Maybe people are starting to warm up to the idea of one King to rule them all, but that process may take years. It will be beyond this mortal mans lifetime before any of that happens.

“I admire your strong words, Alec,” the man’s eyes are downcast, only looking at him through his lashes when Magnus speaks his name again, “and those should belong where they will be heard.”

Alec lifts his head to focus his attention back onto Magnus, lips parting is slight confusion. That furrow of his brows makes his eyes sharper, more calculated. Magnus can only imagine what’s going on in his head. He must not get much chance to talk to royals if he’s a farm boy, but there’s something about Alec that tells him otherwise.

There’s a hint of something forgotten in his posture, similar to how a royal would stand with another royal. When he keeps that very little eye contact Alec allows himself, Magnus feels it, an underlining power that was once before. Why is it still there? For his little brother of course, to maybe not repeat the past.

“How about you become a member of my empire?”

Max’s face lights up, grinning from ear to ear, but Alec’s is a totally different story. All hope sinks when Alec looks away, gritting his teeth and grinding them to the point where his jaw physically hurts.

“No.”

His answer is sharp, speaking it to the ground beside them.

Magnus has to try and keep his composure, simply smiling to Max as his brothers answer is not the one he wished for.

“Alec,” he tugs at his black sleeve, trying to get his brother to agree and move away from their old life, _“please?”_

It’s hard to say no to Max, but this is much more than moving from one empire to the other.

“We can’t,” Alec whispers through his teeth, Max’s posture drooping as he looks away, “I’m sorry.”

He feels like he’s intruding on something private, and Magnus is a respectful man who can understand the needs of family. He doesn’t dare bribe him with riches, as he’s clearly stated already that a King who uses currency to get through to his people is not one he desires. And if Magnus wants to learn more, he has to remain the King he is, loyal and respectful for his people.

“Very well,” and frankly Alec is shocked that he didn’t even _try_ to bribe him, “I shall have you escorted towards the main gates.”

Turning his back on him was extremely difficult, and it shouldn’t be. He’s a King, not a school boy crushing after someone way out of his league. Here, that’s the other way around, but Alec doesn’t even seem to return the same interest.

“King,” but his hopes don’t die just yet, “do you not want your flower back?”

Magnus halts down the path towards his castle, the arching of trees overhead allowing little patches of sunlight to bleed through. Alec is looking at him as Magnus looks over his shoulder, blinking again as the farm boy steps into the light, freckles of sunlight dusting over his face and body.

“Ah,” Magnus smiles, tilting his head towards the ground, still looking at Alec, “those flowers are meant to bring you luck,” he finally turns around, the freely moving parts of his clothing following behind him, “and I think you deserve to keep it.”

“Because I’m just some farm boy, right?” Alec barks back, soon widening his eyes and dipping his head in apology at raising his voice in front of royalty.

There’s no need for Alec to worry, as the next thing he feels is two fingers lifting his chin. Alec follows the order like a puppet, meeting the warm autumn of Magnus’ eyes, freckles of light brown brought out by the sun.

“No. I’m hoping that one lucky day I’ll be able to see you again, Alec.”

His heart is so foreign to those words that it stutters, struggling to take in what Magnus said. Every next breath seems more heavy, but Magnus can only hear a slight difference.

The King smiles at him once more, letting his fingers fall from his chin and join it to his other hand in front of his stomach.

“Have a good day, both of you. I bless you safe travels.”

Alec has never wanted to reach out and hold something so bad when Magnus turned around again. Why did it feel like the final time?

His heart plagued him, burying him in false promises that this will turn out just how he wants it too. Nothing was ever that easy, and Alec had to be knocked from his stare by Max, who tugged on his sleeve a little too hard.

 _“Ow,”_ Alec brushes his shoulder, giving him a little frown as Max chuckles, “what was that for?”

“You like the King?” Max nudges his leg with his elbow, trying to wink up at him but failing, both of his eyes blinking.

“Enough of that, you little rascal.” Reaching down, Alec picks him up, tickling him in the process as the King walks further and further away.

Alec can hear the shuffle of golden armour as Magnus’ guards move to escort him from the royal garden and back through the castle, but as Alec goes to look once more towards the King, Magnus is looking back.

Magnus’ eyes capture him, and the guard has to turn him around when his first command doesn’t follow.

Max sits on his shoulders, Alec holding his knees for safety.

“I can’t believe I stole that flower and he gave it back to you for a date!” Max is not aware of the guards listening, and they both look towards Alec as they walk.

They don’t see much more of it, since Magnus wouldn’t have given it back without reason. Alec gives a little frown to the guards, not knowing what they expect from him, and they weren’t going to arrest his little brother for stealing.

“It’s _not_ a date.”

“You look really pretty with it though,” adjusting the flower, Max notices something different about it. The rose petals now have golden freckles where the King touched, “and I think the King thinks that too.”

Alec sighs, taking those words and placing them in a vault at the back of his mind. There’s no way he’ll bring his hopes up, as there was _no_ chance a King would _ever_ risk his empire for a farm boy.

Magnus doesn’t even know who he is, his past, his dreams and desires. Alec was a mystery.

And Magnus wants to solve it.

 

_\---_

Reliving memories can be painful sometimes, but that one is not at all painful. The start of something new, a challenge that truly challenges all aspects of who he is. Magnus met a man he couldn’t get out of his head, and Alec met a King he wants to do everything for.

Over the next few months leading up to this very day, Magnus didn’t see Alec often, but he did write frequently. He found his address from a friend who scouts the region his empire sits on, and Magnus has never even heard of this address, as it doesn’t even belong to Anamire. Letters were exchanged daily, Magnus asking Meliorn for an extra eagle just for the delivery and return of Alec’s letters. He’s kept every single one, even if Alec’s first few letters were denying moving to his kingdom no matter the bribe.

Magnus did joke a night in bed with him, but Alec’s response had him reading the words twice, excusing himself from a meeting. He explicitly remembers coughing to cover up his gasp, allowing the messenger in a few minutes before so he could deliver the letter.

They are sealed by a golden wax, string gently tightening the paper so no sneaky readers can peak inside, not until the wax itself is peeled away. Letters are printed into the wax, giving it the circular edge and printed pattern. _‘AL'_ is present on the wax, the edges of the print caught by the slightest shimmer. There’s no way a farm boy would have such a professional way of sending letters, especially not his initials to inform Magnus of who the sender is before he even opens it.

His mystery grew by the day, and Magnus was hungry for any clue or chance to see Alec again.

That day came, eventually.

When Alec didn’t send a letter back at the time he usually receives them, Magnus grew worried, agitated even. A day later and there was still no letter. Magnus asked Meliorn if the eagle was sick, but an eagle never returns until it receives what it was sent for. Meliron doesn’t let them leave if they fall sick. It wasn’t like Alec to not send an eagle back to him at exactly seven in the afternoon, Magnus reading the letter before he sleeps and writing a reply in the morning.

So when their little pattern broke, Magnus arranged a trip to Anamire empire to ‘meet and talk business’ which was a total lie. He was going to see Alec, because he couldn’t just order his men to go and collect him, Magnus wasn’t like that. He doesn’t know Alec’s story, so right now, their contact with each other was merely a secret.

Were they even friends?

When Magnus arrived, the kingdom seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. After some stellar acting with trying to look interested in what these royals were saying, he escorted himself out of the grounds to the small village outside.

It was a totally different story.

While the royals were dining and drinking away their wealth, people here were suffering with cold and disease. Magnus didn’t even turn his nose away, he used his immortality to get close and aid them with his magic - which he’s not meant to do.

This isn’t his kingdom, but Magnus doesn’t want to see a single soul so broken and hurt. Many mothers place their hands together and praise him as blue magic dusts over their ill children, aiding their pain and numbing the disease. He won’t remove it entirely, as his magic is not limitless, but it will allow the children to fight back with the aid of Magnus with them.

One by one, his guards help, following Magnus’ ways and aiding the people they can.

Coming to the end of the street, Magnus looks out, spotting a house on a hill, a rising smoke stack reaching into the setting sun of the day. That must be where Alec is, it must be.

It takes a few minutes to approach the house, but when he raises his hand to knock the door, out comes the face he’s missed ever since Magnus first saw him.

Alec, holding a forearm to his lips as he coughs. Immediate dread clings to Magnus’ bones like rats, claws sinking in as Alec’s eyes are completely bloodshot.

He doesn’t register someone is there until he bumps into the King, coughing on his own breath as his eyes widen.

“O-oh _shit, I-”_ he can’t seem to produce words, a blood curdling cough sounding from his throat, “I’m sorry my King, I didn’t see you.”

Magnus hushes him, helping him with a hand to his chest and walking him back into the house. Max is laying on the table with various candles around him, trying to sweat the disease out of him as Alec seems to be risking himself to save his brother.

“Alec, why did you not inform me about this plague?”

He can’t look him in the eye, not when his entire life has been running from royals to help save him.

“Because my life is insignificant. Our own _King_ doesn’t care to help us, so why would anyone?”

Clenching his teeth, Magnus is _infuriated_ at the high council for not spotting this earlier - _especially_ the rulers of this kingdom for ignoring it. It’s true, what Alec said.

Why waste wealth on a dying cause? Not all had the gift of magic.

Well, that doesn’t count for Magnus.

Snapping his thumb and forefinger together, he summons the brewing magic to his palms, Alec watching in awe as he breaks his gaze away from the floor.

He forgot he possessed magical properties, and how his hands moved like a delicate pianist was another thing entirely.

Ah yes, Alec’s piano skills.

Alec insisted he pay Magnus, to give him his life savings for saving his little brother’s life when he wouldn’t have survived without him. The King denied any of it, but Alec’s persistence was stronger than he thought. Therefore, Magnus made a deal. Spend one night at his castle once Max was fully recovered. Alec thought that meant bedding him, but that wasn’t what Magnus intended, finding out exactly that when the day arrived to travel to Bane’s kingdom. In honesty, Alec wouldn’t have said no to spending one night in bed with him, but not having that as the King’s first thought was a bigger relief than his lungs thought possible.

A week after the outbreak, Magnus snuck him into the castle, admiring his musical talents on the grand piano in his quarters. And he means _actual_ music, not the sound of Alec on _top_ of a piano.

That hasn’t happened yet, and neither have they kissed.

It’s been a cat and mouse, and Magnus is frankly tired of doing that.

He wants to take hold of what he dreams, what he desires, what he _loves -_ to have for as long as his heart will let him. Magnus hopes forever, but Alec isn’t immortal, and that will always be a hurdle for them.

But today, as Magnus walks to the exact spot they first spoke under the watchful arch of ancient trees, all that is pushed back into his mind.

Nothing will stop him from this anymore. He’ll secure Alec’s heart like a long battle, bloom like a flower in the spring and warm his heart like hands around a coffee mug.

Alec and Magnus will change this world, bring equality and a society that won’t depend on how many coins are at your feet when you’re born.

He stands where Magnus placed the flower in his hair, hands behind his back as a horse of Magnus’ stands beside him. Another gift the King gave him after their third night together, insisting he keep the horse so that they could speak in person and not through letters. Magnus called it old fashioned, but he simply couldn’t get enough of that hazel imbued smile.

“My King,” Alec begins to bow, hair tousled to the side and the slight scratch of stubble on his face, “I had to see you before you made your decision today.”

“You’re making me late, Alec,” Magnus stops just a few steps away from him, the grey horse looking at his previous owner with its usual neutral expression, “but I will never say no to a visit from you.”

“No invitations to your bed, then?” Alec’s smirk catches his attention for sure, the King chuckling as he takes one step closer.

“From what I recall, every time I did, you rejected me.”

“Ah, that’s called playing hard to get, my King,” he winks, Magnus admiring the confidence Alec has gained during their _dates_ and secret sleepovers, “and I seem to be winning.”

“You don’t need to,” Magnus replies, Alec perking a brow, “because that would require you to win me over.”

Alec simply shakes his head, bringing a hand round to his front to offer him a letter.

“If only a King would fall for a farm boy, hmm?” he jokes, Magnus feeling that irritating itch over his heart at those words.

Alec truly believes that Magnus could never love him, doubt and self hatred a bigger plague than the disease that threatened to squeeze his life to a pulp a few weeks ago. Alec didn’t see their dates as dates, just time spent together. At first, that’s what they were for Magnus too, but as time went on Magnus felt a lot more than that.

“What… is this?” Magnus asks, cautiously taking the familiar looking decoration of a letter.

There’s silence, Alec not replying straight away.

“My last letter.”

And there’s that invisible fist that crunches through Magnus’ chest, fingers taking hold of his heart and squeezing it dry.

“You - you’re _leaving?”_ his stutter laced with fear, Magnus manages to keep his composure.

“No, I’m still living in that house on the hill,” he keeps his hand outstretched until Magnus takes it, and he does so very slowly, almost as if this is the last time he’ll be able to see one of these parchments, “but this is for me, and you.”

Magnus goes to open it, but Alec’s hand stops him, taking hold of Magnus’.

“Don’t, not until I’m gone.” Alec pleas, giving the King a smile that hides the tear sitting behind his right eye. Magnus can see that moisture glittering, emotions trying to hold onto that last dream he wants to keep fighting for.

“I don’t want you to go,” Magnus squeezes his hand, soon realising that this is the first time they’ve ever held hands, and it may also be there last while both are awake, “you light up my Kingdom, Alexander.”

There’s that name, his full name that Alec _loves_ more than anything to hear. No other voice but Magnus’ says it with such meaning, such care carried with the letters. Their hands also carry words, but not when the other was listening. When Alec fell asleep, Magnus placing fingers through his hair, or when Magnus was pointing to a particular book and their hands brushed. He didn’t notice back then, but as their time drips away like melting ice, Magnus can feel it fading faster than he can register.

“I don’t, you do,” Alec gestures around to the trees, the birds, everything that isn’t himself, “I am simply a shadow here. You built everything, you created this life for your people. I am not your people.”

“But I -” he has to bite his tongue, Magnus threatening to crush the letter in his hand. He would have done so if the ink on that paper wasn’t Alec’s, handwritten in his messy but very _Alec_ style that Magnus has come to love.

“This is better for you, Magnus.”

“Who are you to decide _my_ life? I have my own desires, my own dreams.”

“But you can’t chase them if a shadow drags behind you. I’m your.. secret, the thing you want to keep hidden,”

“Alexander, that’s not what I-”

“No, I get it. It’s safer for all of us if it remained a secret, but I don’t want that, not anymore.”

Is this what he wants? To be friends with Magnus in the open? For Magnus to befriend a farm boy, to have him in his royal quarters would be a laughing stock.

He doesn’t care.

Magnus will have this, no matter what the world thinks.

“I don’t want that,” Alec frowns at Magnus’ sudden tone, weak but strong at the same time, two sides of his emotions fighting for one singular thing - Alec.

“What?”

“I want you.”

Even the wind stops blowing, the weight pressing down on both of their shoulders as Alec exhales through his mouth. It’s shaky, forced by the shock that punches at his chest and up towards his throat.

“Me?”

“You,” Magnus prods his chest as he takes one step closer, “the farm boy from Anamire, the big brother who risked his own life to save his little brother. A man of good will and not much fortune, but his heart and soul is worth more than any man or woman could buy - even me. I myself, the True King could never admire a worth to match the one you deserve, Alexander.”

Alec can feel his tears fall as Magnus speaks words like a scholar, writing them into the winds that will carry them for miles and through the ages.

Magnus sees him as more than poverty, he sees him as _Alec._

Perhaps in another lifetime, though.

“Magnus,” the way he says his name already hurts him, time seeming to slow as the walls close in, “read the letter.”

He doesn’t want to, he wants to take hold of what he wishes for, he wants to kiss the face he wants to know more and more as each second passes. But he can’t, because his own heart is falling in reverse, telling him that this day is not only a decision for Magnus, but for the both of them.

Alec takes a step forward, one where he’s also taking a step back, removing himself from Magnus’ life for the greater good. Magnus would never, _ever_ call it that.

He doesn’t want it to be.

Lips place against his forehead, Alec closing his eyes as the thought of drowning paints itself in his mind. Waves crashing in, cutting him open as the storm starts to destroy the foundations of what was once there. The fear of turning back and admitting defeat, quitting on what Alec trusted would be change.

Not now, not when Magnus has so much to gain from life.

But Magnus doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want wealth and a good name because he married and brought kingdoms together - he wants to marry because he’s in _love,_ not forced by traditions as old as the dirt beneath his feet.

It’s ironic and painful to think Alec said that, how little he thought of himself.

_My empire is in the dirt, my last name but a memory. I can’t do that to you too._

Finding out he was a Lightwood changed everything. The cursed and fallen empire, the very name itself not being heard for years as the legacy is buried with Alec’s past.

Marrying Alec would be seen as treachery, a violation to the peace the kingdoms fought for against the Clave.

But Alec - Alec was nothing like those monsters.

One night, as Magnus fell asleep on his shoulder listening to Alec read through old books from the King’s library, he found out how gentle he could be.

He carried Magnus to bed, holding him close to his chest so the drum of Alec’s heart could write and shape his dreams. When Alec placed Magnus him against the sheets, hazels remembered the soft angles of his face when sleeping, the usual expression that carried worry with his smile relaxing to one of peace.

Magnus felt the slow movement of fingers through his hair in his dreams, curling into the gesture subconsciously.

Alec will always remember that night, and with his possible last goodbye, he will keep that promise to himself.

Pulling back, Magnus stares at his lips, wanting but aware of the dangers something like that could make.

The little forehead kiss he gave was enough, and Magnus will treasure it even on the most awful of days, where the rain refuses to stop falling like future tears that stain his cheeks.

“You have changed my life, Magnus Bane,” he smiles as Magnus dips his head, unable to take compliments when his lungs are so constricted, “taught me self worth and helped me see the world in a new light.”

Magnus wants to grab his shoulders and shake some sense into him, because he’s speaking what his emotions deny.

“Then why do you think you won’t be good for me?”

“I’m not-” he pauses again, Magnus taking the ability away for him to speak, utterly broken by the image he sees.

Magnus is fighting for this, but what Alec is doing also fights for them.

Perhaps in the future, they’ll have this.

“I’m not ready to let you risk all this for me,” he takes another step back, Magnus’ fingers turning cold as Alec’s grip fades from his hand, “and I know our hearts beat for much more than friendship.”

Even Magnus’ rings are warmer than where Alec touched, leaving that mental and physical reminder that this could be the last time.

“Whatever decision you make, I will always be loyal to you, Magnus.”

Alec doesn’t bow.

He speaks as a human, as Alec.

He speaks as Alec to Magnus, not a King, but another human with a heart that beats just like his.

Alec walks away, but his feet drag, the horse waiting for him as their head follows Alec’s body. Magnus watches as he mounts the horse, not looking back as he commands the horse to walk slowly.

Magnus looks away, wondering how this must have looked the first time when it was Magnus.

Maybe, just maybe it’s the same. Maybe it will happen again, the exchange of a goodbye only their eyes can speak.

And it does.

As Magnus tries his luck, to dare his heart to control his body once more, he catches Alec looking over his shoulder at him, smiling.

_A smile that says goodbye and hello._

The King remains standing under the arches for what seems like hours, the birds settling around him as he fails to move. If time would have it, Magnus would become a statue right there, a lonely King who watched his dream fade away and blend with countless others, all but a grain of sand to the world.

A letter isn’t the only thing remaining of Alec, as Magnus will hold the memories of that smile, that laughter, that smile that tilts one side of his face. Alec is Alec, and his most redeeming quality is how human he is, how much he can see the weight on Magnus’ shoulders and relate. Alec doesn’t look at Magnus and see a King of wealth, he sees a man chosen to be a King because he wants the best for this world.

But he forgets himself.

He holds the last letter with both hands, admiring the wax seal one last time as he peels it from the paper.

One last letter, for one last time.

One last memory of Alec.

Every word is heavy, his handwriting rushed and smudged from what seems to be moisture. This wasn’t a letter, this was Alec’s heart _bleeding_ into a piece of paper, a final cry for what he wants but too afraid to say.

Magnus can picture him at that desk near his bed with a candle, crossing out the words he writes that make no sense.

_Stop laughing at me! I’m not good with words._

He can still hear him say it. The way he smirked, but this letter was no joke. This was Alec ripping down every wall, every secret he’s hidden and laying out who he is in a few pages of words. It’s powerful, and Magnus has never read something so moving, not even from his favourite author that commands his tears to fall everytime he reads one of their novels.

This is pure, _real_ emotion that is written by the hand that played him music, held his books as he read to him, held his hand as he said goodbye.

This was _his_ Alec, his lost melody that no other person knows about, that no one wants to know about.

But Magnus does, he’ll find those broken chords and make a song so beautiful that history will remember it, a duet forming when Magnus joins him with a smile, a story for the ages.

It’s the last few lines that give him hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, the first bee foraging as a flower blooms in spring.

_“You have a decision to make, and as your friend, I will not stand in the way of what you want. Don’t risk your life for me, not when you mean so much to these people._

_But, I want to ask something. At least - my selfish heart does._

_If I see you again, if I have the chance to even talk to you again - would you let me love you like no other has before?_

_And if you did, if you let me back into your life, how far would we go?_

_What would you risk?”_

Magnus already knows his answer.


	2. his past before him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people wanted to see what Alec wrote in his letter, so here it is!  
> #FYAEfic

Magnus holds the letter as the sound around him fades out, thumb and forefinger holding the parchment like it’s royalty. It is, in a sense, considering the Lightwood’s were an empire long ago.

Well, the empires are different, he’s not comparing it _that_ way. The Lightwoods ruled with fear, their King, Robert, didn’t do much for the good of his people. Alec is his son, but Magnus can’t see any resemblance, at least not in the way he smiles or holds himself. Blood is always what defines people, and unfortunately for Alec, he’s the son of a mad King, a poisonous disease that almost cost many empires to fall.

The collective Downworld put a stop to the Clave, and with it, the Lightwoods. Magnus didn’t know Alec then, and when Magnus was sending armies of men and women, dragons in the sky, wolf packs on the ground - he must have been scared.

He was only a mere boy, holding his mother’s hand inside the castle walls, constantly asking why the noises are closing in.

_Why are they so loud?_

_Who are they, mother?_

Alec was blind to the world then, and Magnus doesn’t know that.

He doesn’t know _anything_ about Alec, really.

All he knows for sure, is what Alec has _chosen_ to tell him. He can play piano, read stories with a calming voice that sends you to sleep, care for others as if they’re his own. Alec’s heart is cold, his hands even colder, his mind lost to debts he feels he has to repay.

Most of all, the one thing that holds Alec back the most - is that he’s a _Lightwood._

The son of a _mad King,_ the enemy of this age. If Magnus’ friends and kingdom found out exactly _who_ he’s been sneaking to his quarters, they would riot. They’d demand a new King, asking _why_ would he ever try to bed an enemy? They’ve fought tooth and nail for their freedom, and Magnus would simply throw it away for a quick throw of pleasure?

Day by day, the world would slowly fall in on itself, returning to a madness Magnus gave up so much to stop in the first place.

Out of all the heavy burdens he’s carried, the gold he’s carried back from thieves, the politics of his kingdom - nothing feels as heavy as the letter he holds now.

The wax seal seems the most clear, like Alec took his time to make sure it was completely centered, not rushed or missing half of the initials. Before, Alec had to write under the cover of darkness when Max was sleeping, because the kingdom he lives in would send guards every day, clearing out their house of any possession worth gold and handing it back to the King himself.

It’s rough, and Alec’s been close to being caught a few times, hiding most of his own earnings under the floorboards. Max did lose his wooden dragon once, and Alec has been carving a new one for him ever since.

But since this was his last letter, he took his time, even if the handwriting is so messy and rushed that it seems as if he wrote it on his way here on horseback. That wasn’t the case, not at all, because Alec never surrenders to exhaustion, he’s not lazy. Alec is a man of honour, he puts his 100% into something and then some - he would never say goodbye to Magnus with a quick wave and a three worded letter.

It’s still a letter, but it’s also so much more.

Magnus has always been the one to understand him, no one else. Even his messy handwriting, Magnus can still read it, because he takes the time to want to understand it, the running black ink that Alec can’t seem to control with his shaky hand as he writes.

And as Magnus opens it, peeling the wax seal away, he holds it in his hand as he reads in silence, Alec’s voice echoing through his mind.

Just like he’d read him those stories from his libraries, the countless tales he told of his days back at Anamire. Albeit, they weren’t pleasant or exciting stories, but Magnus could listen to him for hours on end, appreciating his endless love for his farm and care for his little brother.

There it is, that _handwriting,_ the style he admires so much that sometimes becomes unreadable. Why? Because Alec is never good with words, and his handwriting will go from one of a lord with wealth falling from his fingers, to a mere boy excited to tell his friend about how much the clouds in the sky looked like animals that day.

Usually, Magnus would be excited at the call of his eagle bringing another letter to his window, but there’s no eagle this time.

This time, Alec delivered it himself, face to face where he can see the regret and sadness pulling him down. His heart burns, his eyes bleed with sorrow, his lungs cave in as his words fail him when he needs them most.

Whatever he reads, it could change Magnus’ life. For better or for worse? He doesn’t know.

There’s only one way to find out, and that’s by reading the words Alec has bled into the paper he now holds.

 

_Dear Magnus,_

 

_I’m not writing to say my hello, or my goodbyes. Perhaps the latter, but that’s not the point._

_I’m confused. My heart wants one thing but my mind another, and I’ve never been good at deciding right from wrong. Ever since my childhood, all I’ve known is to follow rules, to retire my heart and let my hunger for power and wealth take control of my actions._

_But that isn’t me, I’ve realised._

_Or, that’s what you’ve made me realise, Magnus._

_Life isn’t about money, it’s not about raising pitchforks and fighting for your kingdom. It’s more about finding that balance, the balance between finding out what you want to live for, and how you want to live for it._

_Call it magic, or call it complete garbage, but I’ve been trying to find that balance ever since I understood it._

_If I’m being honest, the only time the answer has even been clear - is with you._

_Every time you’ve snuck me in, you’ve treated me like a friend, not a servant, not a criminal. I know I am no criminal, but the blood I am born with, the last name that will be engraved on my tombstone, that is the curse I must live with._

_I’ve tried to relieve the burden, to help my brother become a man I could never be, to try and find a life elsewhere once I’m gone -_

_But I fear I’m running out of time._

_The Clave is still here, gathering forces beyond the north mountain range. They’ve wrote to me, asked for my acceptance back to lead what was once my fathers._

_I know what you may be thinking, that I’ve given you this as a goodbye because I have no heart to become an enemy in front of you, but I’m not. I’m torn, because as much as I want to run away from the Clave, they will never stop until they find us._

_I am a traitor to you, and I am a traitor to my own blood._

_I’m alone now, more than I’ve ever been._

_For Max, not me, I’ve decided to move, to run, to live a life of running because we have no other choice._

_I cannot love you, I cannot be the man you want me to be, simply because my blood won’t allow me. If you change my name by marrying me, people will still look down on you, your allies will question your true loyalties. They’ll look at you and say you bedded me simply for your revenge, not out of love._

_As much as I want to lay there with you, to watch the birds fly past your window in that castle you call home, I cannot let you deal with that burden. I will not reduce you to that man you’ll be with me, as much as my selfish heart wants you._

_I’ve never been good with words, and I’ve never been good in deciding my own fate, but I do know this -_

_That whatever happens, whatever lifetime I end up in, I will always look for you._

_I’ll keep running, but my heart will always be pulling me back to you._

_Through rain, storm, frost and the dread of a plague, I don’t think I will admire a man as much as you, Magnus._

_I will always look up to you as my King._

_I know you are to wed that woman, and it pains me to see you wear a ring that will not be one of your own choosing. Call me rude, but I’ve see the way your face morphs to one of anger and sadness whenever you’re reminded of it. I heard the talk the last time I was there at your kingdom, how your people were excited for a wedding of such scale._

_For your kingdom, I would say yes._

_But as me, the one who cares for what’s behind your wealth and title, I’d say no._

_Your heart is not to give away so easily, Magnus._

_Not because I want it for myself, no, but because you are a man worthy of choosing your own love, your own heart. The world has been cruel to you, I know that, and you did not fight through years of war to give your heart away so cheaply._

_Fight for your heart Magnus, because I - I can no longer do that._

_By sunrise tomorrow, my farm will be abandoned._

_I will have left my home with whatever possessions we still own, and no matter how far I travel, no matter how much my hair grows or my skin ages, I will never forget what you taught me._

_I will never forget the smiles you brought me, the happiness, the warm feeling of a friend I can talk to about my worst fears._

_Funny, isn’t it? I say that, yet my biggest fear was always staring at me in the face._

_You._

_What I’ve wanted, yet never had the guts to face._

_Time has never been on my side, and it never will be. Perhaps it will be better to find another immortal, than to fall in love with a mortal criminal that will do nothing but drag your name through the dirt. And even after that, when I rot and become useless, I will break your heart, because you’ll lose me, and I’ll leave you with a life that I would never want to give you_

_I am a different man because of you, Magnus. What you’ve taught me, what stories you’ve told me - I’ll carry them with me through these lands, and they will guide me home._

_Wherever that is, I do not know, but perhaps one day an eagle will find me, and I’ll be able to tell you what beauty I’ve found._

_But I also don’t want you to do that. I want you to forget me, to burn this letter so no one remembers me. No one but you, nobody but the eagles that send our letters back and forth._

_And if the horrors find me, they can take my possessions, my mind, my body - but they will never take what you gave me._

_You gave me my life back, Magnus. No fortune can buy that, no fortune can buy what you’ve given me._

_Perhaps one day I’ll hear of your greatness, your weddings and divorces, your kids as they become princes and princesses. One day, maybe the wars will end, and I can come back to you._

_A dream, a wicked dream, but you were the one to tell me there’s no harm in dreaming._

_So I will. I’ll dream of better days, even if it slowly kills me inside that they are simply that - just dreams._

_Thank you for the days you’ve thought of me._

_Thank you for the smiles you have given, the laughter after my awful jokes. Thank you for helping my little brother, to save him from a darkness I couldn’t save him from myself. Thank you for everything, and I mean everything._

_But I fear our time is over - for now, at least._

_You have a decision to make, and as your friend, I will not stand in the way of what you want. Don’t risk your life for me, not when you mean so much to these people._

_But, I want to ask something. At least - my selfish heart does._

_If I see you again, if I have the chance to even talk to you again - would you let me love you like no other has before?_

_And if you did, if you let me back into your life, how far would we go?_

_What would you risk?_

_From this life to the next, I will always see you as a man of honour.  I will always hold you close to my heart, Magnus._

_I wish you all the best, and hope that the gods shine down on you, because no one deserves a life of happiness more than you do._

_Goodbye, Magnus_

_Alec_

 

Every wall, every foundation holding up the dam _breaks,_ and Magnus _crumbles._

His tears have never been this heavy before, not ever. Even a drop of rum won’t numb this pain, the thought of Alec running from every side of the war because _nowhere_ is home.  _Nowhere_ is safe.

Magnus wishes his heart could be one, but he cannot protect him from how rough the storms are, how cold the winters will be, how furocious the wildlife roam.

And it _hurts,_ it hurts knowing that smile was simply a facade. The kiss that still lingers on his forehead, it feels cold, and becomes even more so at the thought that it will be the only one they’ll ever share.

_Curse this world, curse it all._

Magnus feels magic thunder at his fingertips, the bruises of his past bubbling to the surface. Even the trees move back, breaking the arch as the clouds turn a sickling grey.

And the heavens open.

Rain pours, thunders.

It takes a while to realise Magnus is the one causing it, his tears filled with magic that fall to the floor. His own sorrow controls the weather, and as the first lightning bolt strikes from his own inner turmoil, the screams and laughter of guests appear in the distance.

The event will surely be cancelled, and Magnus doesn’t care.

He can’t think, he can’t breathe.

All he can see is this letter, the ink that slowly begins to wash away from the rain as it falls to his feet.

Alec has given up, he’s running from a life he could’ve had. But not completely, because he’ll still think of him, his heart will still beat for the true King.

Not because he’s rich, not because he’s a man of gorgeous beauty and infinite powers - but because he’s _Magnus._ He loves what’s beneath that, because when you peel all that back, the titles and power, he’s just as much as a man as Alec is - and that’s beautiful.

They’re almost soulmates, because Magnus has lived _centuries,_ but his heart has never sang like this before. All this waiting, all this heartbreak because it was never the right heart all along.

Alec is his heart, through and through.

Picking up the letter, Magnus folds it, holding it close to his chest. He won’t burn it, he won’t lose his last words to Alec if it’s indeed the last. Because if Alec will roam the world still thinking of him, then Magnus won’t give up.

Magnus will fight for him, he’ll find a way.

Even if it costs him his _empire,_ even if it drags his name through the _dirt._

His heart has never been so full, so adored and cherished that it feels close to bursting.

Magnus will bring Alec home, home to his arms, home to his love - and wherever that will be, be it miles from here, his kingdom, or somewhere completely undiscovered - it won’t matter.

Because he’ll be with Alec. No matter how many oceans are between them, no matter how many laws he’ll break or nights he’ll sneak out, Alec will be there. He knows, because Alec is a man to never give up, even when he’s beaten to the ground with a sword in his chest - he’ll fight to his last breath.

So will Magnus, because as long as he lives, no person will live in fear of _living._

Magnus _will_ find a home for them.

He’ll bring Alec _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a lot more deleted scenes lying around for this fic, so if you ever want the more detailed and fleshed out versions of what magnus and alec did before this fateful day, then let me know!
> 
> see you next time! shout at me @karasunoflyy if you need to :')


	3. a storm of the present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, you guys asked for it :)
> 
> the whole plot + deleted scenes are on the way!
> 
> #fyaefic

With the event cancelled, graduation already scheduled for a new day next week because of the storm - Magnus finds himself at a loss. Walking back to the doors he originally smiled through as he left to go see Alec, his kingdom feels a lot less like home.

The walls seems heavy, slowly closing in, a cage in disguise that stops him from fighting for what _he_ himself wants. There’s no room to be selfish, but out of everything, Magnus wants this _one_ thing, and yet he can’t have it.

With _everything_ he’s done?

Magnus follows the saying that you don’t give to receive, but he won’t beat himself up about having one dream, a simple desire he wishes to have.

How much of a _fool_ he is, to believe that this cruel world could ever give him what he’s longed for.

Even as magic still conquers the storms above, the world seems awfully silent. Perhaps it’s just Magnus, pain flooding his body and drowning out his senses, only playing a single voice inside his head over and over again.

_Goodbye, Magnus._

Alec didn’t even speak those words, but he did in other terms. Alec spoke with his eyes, those hazels cracked with conflicting fear, the hesitation as his hand pulled back--

He didn’t want to say goodbye. Alec didn’t want that to be the last time he saw Magnus.

But it might be, and they both have to come to terms with that.

As the sound of rain and thunder becomes distant thanks to the thickness of these walls, Magnus suddenly has the urge to go outside again. Perhaps if he runs quick enough, that if he screams Alec’s name until his lungs split open, he may come back.

That second night Alec snuck in, it was raining then too, and Magnus specifically remembers Alec scolding him for waiting outside in the rain.

_You’ll get a fever standing out here._

Magnus’ lips twitch, but they fail to keep the smile as another memory steps out;

_Why did you wait for me?_

Magnus knew the consequences of falling in love with Alec, because as soon as he found out he was a Lightwood, he has never heard a more sickening _crack_ than his own heart. That day was the one that sealed their fate, the answer that burned on the tips of their tongues, the twitch of their fingers - _could they be more?_

He can remember Alec’s voice singing that song that sounded so _beautiful,_ his voice so raw and _real,_ piano notes carrying the lyrics along.

But even the most beautiful of notes can’t make lyrics so pained become easier to hear, the edge in Alec’s voice speaking millions to Magnus’ ears.

What Alec sang that night, those keys and notes he played - they came from a darkness that sits at the bottom of his lungs, freeing itself in an art form that would hopefully hide the fear.

It didn’t.

Magnus saw Alec’s life in pieces that night, an echo of what was before and who he might become because of his choices.

With Max, those choices won’t be easy, and unfortunately, the biggest choice he’s ever made has torn more than one heart.

Magnus’ mind is numb, still holding the letter that he hopes dries quickly, not wanting the ink to run. There’s a gnawing sensation at the back of his chest, a buzzing noise that fills his thoughts. Maybe it’s the storm, but that would be Magnus denying what it really means.

He’s felt this before.

It’s _heartbreak._

This time though, it’s different.

Because instead of losing what he _thought_ was real, he’s losing what _is_ real. That, in itself, hurts the most.

The fact that he _could’ve_ had Alec in his arms, to love him, to hold him close and never let go - the endless possibility. Most of all, they could have been _happy._

When wars are a constant threat, politics boring him to the bone on most days, his quarters awfully alone - Alec could have been the person to fill that void. Not because he needs comfort, not because he needs a quick fling at night to ease the stress, none of that.

He wants Alec _here,_ to live with him because he _loves_ him. Wholeheartedly, sickeningly, no longer able to deny it - _in love with him._

Alec is too, he loves Magnus. He may not be able to say it like Magnus can, with the confidence to sing it to the world, but he’s told him how he tells him best.

Through action, not words.

Even though leaving Magnus could be seen as giving up, Magnus sees it as an act of _stupid_ and _selfish_ heroism. He’s running because he doesn’t want to ruin Magnus’ life, to ruin all he has and what he’s become because of his hard work.

Yes, he could sneak around, play games and laugh under the moons watchful eye, but that isn’t what Alec wants.

 _Neither_ of them want that.

Dirty secrets are only that, secrets that shouldn’t surface.

Alec isn’t a dirty secret. Well, he _is,_ but he’s worth much more than that. He should be standing freely by his side, kissing his cheek as they roam the kingdom together, talking to citizens and doing silly little magic tricks to bring smiles to children's faces.

_Why does he think like this?_

He groans. It hurts more to think of a future they could’ve had when nothing _right now_ seems real. Hearts will always be in denial until they truly break, and as much as his heart wants to, the letter is the only thing keeping it intact.

A final hope, a last sorry cry for what Magnus has been searching for in every century gone by.

“My King!” Ragnor’s voice appears from the hall, running towards him with an expression that screams worry, “you are soaked, please, come-”

“No,” Magnus can’t even speak, his little _no_ so pained and lost that Ragnor has to look twice at him to realise what he wants, “I am quite fine.”

Ragnor steps back, hands moving behind his back as he nods.

_He’s lying._

Magnus gives his friend a weak smile, breathing a shaky sigh before he continues speaking again, “Gather the council.”

“But, why would you need the council?” Ragnor questions him not because of his state, but because Magnus despises the council through and through.

“We’re in danger,” the way Magnus stays tall but still with the shiver in his bones, his facade fading as his speech becomes tame - Ragnor has seen this all before, “and there is no need for your pity right now.”

He’s dying to ask, but knowing the King and his stubborn ways, he won’t agree with what Ragnor deems is real. Heartbreak outweighs other things in the first few minutes of it occurring, and with Magnus’ magic crackling outside as guests rush inside, there’s no arguing with him.

“Very well,” Ragnor sighs, not watching as his friend walks away down the hall, shoulders slumped and not with his usual grace, “I’ll schedule it in two days time.”

Magnus halts at that, turning to face his old friend at the other end of the hallway.

“I want it as _soon as possible,_ not _two days.”_ he’s not heard Magnus speak so grit teeth in years.

“And are you in the _state_ to stand up in front of the council in say, one or two hours?” Ragnor turns to face him now, his tone confident as ever.

Ragnor’s right.

Magnus can’t stand the council sober with a smile on his face, and therefore this mood will only make it worse. As much as he hates to let this pain win, he can’t risk letting his emotions tailor the kingdom’s path, not in this mindset.

A few seconds later, Ragnor has slowly made his way to where Magnus is standing, the King looking to the floor in silent defeat.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, Ragnor offers a gentle smile as Magnus gives his remaining attention back to him.

“He broke your heart, didn’t he?” Magnus is silent, not answering him, “I assume he did it for your sake, not his own.”

“I hate him.”

"That’s a large difference to what I usually witness,” quirking one eyebrow, Ragnor watches his lips twitch, but there’s not enough overwhelming joy to overpower the heartbreak, “or do you need to correct me? Perhaps your love sick giggles and daydreaming glances are simply your magnificent acting skills.”

Magnus scoffs, turning around as he begins to walk back to his quarters. Ragnor follows, hands behind his back as he continues to talk.

“My years of being alive have taught me well. I know heartbreak will never beat you down permanently, but _this time,_ I can see how much it affects you. That boy has you in love, and this isn’t a one time thing, is it?”

“No. I never wanted it to be.” stopping in the hall, he lets Ragnor catch up a few steps, turning to look at his advisor with lost eyes.

“Yet here you stand, tear stains on your face because you mourn the loss of a heart. You mourn your own, but you also mourn _his._ That, my friend, is the striking difference to the _lovers_ you’ve had before.”

“Alec is no one night wish, he’s… much _more_ than that. He hasn’t even _been_ that yet.” bringing his hands together, Magnus feels like crushing the letter in his hands, but he doesn’t.

The letter doesn’t go unnoticed by Ragnor, he simply won't acknowledge it for the sake of Magnus. Surfacing memories so painful and so _new_ won’t give him the breathing room to talk. He still could, but he’d talk nonsense, strangled by pain and agony that grips itself around his throat.

Ragnor is aware of them being pen pals, and he’s also aware of Magnus sneaking him inside the castle on more than one occasion. Alec did bump into him once on his way out, and thankfully it was Ragnor, otherwise the outcome of that night could have been very different.

“Have you kissed him?”

“No,” for a moment, he thinks back to the times he could have done that, but soon sinks back into the present, “why is that important to _you?”_

“Had sex with him?”

 _“No,_ Ragnor, I have not. This isn’t funny anymore, my friend. I appreciate you trying to lift my mood, but this isn’t exactly _working.”_ the King turns away again, heading towards his quarters once more.

“Because you’re Magnus Bane. If you want something, you do it in a way that guarantees it. If you wanted to kiss him, you would have, if you wanted sex, you would have done it more than a few times already.”

“If this is meant to be some sort of motivational speech, it’s not going the way you planned,” Magnus speaks back, turning to him and now walking backwards, “it seems you’ve lost your charm.”

“What I’m trying to say, is that you want more. A soul to love, emotionally and physically.”

Magnus stops walking.

“You know very well that if you took advantage of Alec, he would’ve seen you as nothing more. From what you told me about your first encounter, he sees you as the True King of every empire, and becoming sexual partners might of made him think he’s just another warm body to lay in your sheets. Perhaps he would’ve opened to the idea of you being with him as more than a quick moonlight kiss months down the line, but by then, your heart would be in guilt. All those months where you could have been growing your relationship you spent sweating your hopes away, ruining a chance at what felt so real at the start.”

The tight grip of his jaw loosens, Magnus feeling his whole body shrink into the realisation that Ragnor is right - _again._

“Tell me something, Magnus,” he doesn’t move from where he stands, and neither does Magnus, staring down the hallway at each other, “when your heart broke out there, when the heavens opened, did it feel real?”

Silence, seconds ticking by as he can't help but admit it.

“Yes,” there’s no denying that, not even for Magnus, “yes it did.”

Ragnor smiles, which may seem horrid at the topic of conversation, but there’s no feeling of that between them.

“Then don’t give up. If it truly is broken, then you know the only thing to put it back together is what made it feel so real in the first place,” Ragnor’s words are spoken softly, a tone that mixes knowledge with friendly comfort, “no matter how much you want to break down and cry, that you believe it’s all over.”

Shaking his head, Magnus finally smiles. It’s small, but it’s a smile worth more to Ragnor than any other, because he’s able to understand it.

“One day you’ll run out of your poetic words,” Magnus replies, smiling brighter when Ragnor closes the gap between them, standing in front of him now as they speak only to each other, not the room, “and when that day comes, perhaps my Kingdom will fall along with me.”

“Don’t be so grim, Magnus. I am your advisor, your second hand in battle, but most importantly I am your friend. Happiness comes first, and lots of things fall under that umbrella towards your happiness.”

“What can I say? I’m a complicated man.” trying to lighten the mood, Magnus doesn’t feel the tear fall down his cheek until Ragnor wipes it away with his thumb.

“A complicated man with a broken heart, but it hasn’t stopped you from changing this world. I may guide you, but ultimately you are the one to move those chess pieces across the board.”

They stand there in silence, Magnus thinking over what Ragnor said. If he wasn’t so painfully right, Magnus might have walked away from this conversation minutes ago.

He needs to hear this, he needs to hear why he’s been looking at this all wrong.

“It’s time to start moving your own chess pieces,” Ragnor prods the place where his heart sits inside his chest, jolting Magnus’ torso back a little, “and start moving them for _your_ future, not just your empire.”

Ragnor keeps his finger there, the words seemingly bleeding into Magnus through that contact alone.

“You run away because you’re scared of this not working, that whatever you have with Alec is yet another dead end you desperately want to continue.” as each words passes by, Magnus feels his lungs surrender to a sigh, holding the letter close to his stomach, “This time, you haven’t denied what you want because you can’t be bothered, but because you choose to say _no_. What Alec means to you, how he makes you feel, it’s all new-”

“And I’m scared of it because I’m so close yet so far to making it real.” Magnus finishes the sentence for him, finally seeing sense.

This is why Magnus said no on the first night, this is why he refused to kiss him when Alec was so painfully close to his lips he felt like he was suffocating - this love is _new._

Because it’s _real._

Not lust, not sin, but genuine blood pumping, adrenaline rushing love that grounds Magnus so firmly to the floor his knees buckle from the relief of it.

 _Finally,_ he sees sense. He feels it, the once confusing bind of chains snapping under new thoughts, ones that lift him up instead of weighing him down.

“And you have never been scared of fighting or believing in what you want. If Alec believes there’s a chance for you, if that letter you hold simply isn’t his goodbye, then _fight_ for it Magnus.” Ragnor removes his finger, smiling at his friend once more.

“Ragnor, thank you.”

“No need to thank me yet. Do it when I have to cancel your meetings for weeks on end because you’re spending too much time with him.”

It _hurts_ to think if he can’t do this, that if Magnus _can’t_ fight for him and Alec, then it will remain a dream. And those words Ragnor speaks make him cringe, but blinding himself to a painful reality won’t help him overcome the toughest obstacles he’s yet to face.

“Then let me thank you for standing by me, even through this.”

Smiling, Ragnor nods, accepting that thanks at least.

“I promised you a lifetime, and unfortunately for me, I keep my promises. If this boy means this much to you, then I owe it to you, as your friend, to help you reach that happiness.”

This time, Magnus is the one to nod, but there’s still something gnawing at the back of his throat.

“I haven’t told you everything,” this time the King looks away, biting his tongue as small pricks of fear appear over the surface of his back, “why do you trust someone you barely know?”

Ragnor looks a little taken back by that question, almost as if he hasn’t contemplated that himself. Truth is, he hasn’t. He’s been so focused on Magnus and trying to give him space that he didn’t see the need too.

After all, the amount of times Ragnor warned Magnus about the dangers of falling in love, he ignored them. Magnus continues to break his heart piece by piece, over and over until there’s nothing left.

He thought Alec was another one of those heartbreaks, another hope shattered when Ragnor saw it coming from the start. Technically he still is, but this pain he sees in Magnus tells Ragnor a different story.

The way he walks, the way Magnus smiles and tries to hide his pain, ignoring the blatant tears that roll down his face.

Before, he would admit defeat, a good leader always knowing strengths and weaknesses.

But this--

Magnus isn’t backing down. It may seem like it, but the way he holds that letter shows he’s holding on to one last hope. Words on paper, words Ragnor doesn’t desire to read because he can see them clearly on Magnus’ face.

A goodbye, a promise, a dream of something _more._

“You’re right, I barely know him. But I do know that your smiles have been the brightest when he’s with you.”

“So you’re judging him based on my happiness?”

Ragnor laughs, shaking his head as he walks away. He has a council meeting to schedule, and Magnus clearly needs some time alone before his head spins beyond control.

Ragnor knows he needs time, time to plan what he’s going to do in order to _fight_ for his future.

“I am sometimes too harsh when it comes to first impressions, but you always seem to understand people better than anyone.” stopping just at the end of the hallway, Ragnor sighs, turning back to him as the marble above them becomes blue from lightning strikes outside.

“That is true,” Magnus is confident enough to admit that, “but Alec - I could never understand him, I still can’t.”

“And perhaps that’s a good thing.” his advisor replies.

“Is it? Really?”

Ragnor’s face slowly morphs to one of concern.

“What could you possibly mean by that? And I’m sure you wouldn’t hide important stuff from me. This is your private life and not mine, but if there’s something you’re not telling me that puts you in _danger--”_

“What if Alec could change everything, morph what we see as right or wrong?” Magnus pulls words from the air, wanting to say words that dangle on the edge of his tongue.

_He’s a Lightwood._

_He’s the enemy._

_I’m in love with the enemy of my entire empire._

“Magnus, stop being _cryptic.”_ Ragnor almost scoffs at him, but as the seconds roll by he quickly realises this _Alec_ is more than just a lovesick crush.

Not in a good way either, because from how much Magnus’ lips are _trembling,_ he seems to be hiding a lot more than Ragnor originally thought.

Magnus realises he can’t do this alone.

Alec won’t be his little secret anymore, he can’t be, not if they desire much more than that.

The King watches as Ragnor eyes him, clenching his jaw as fear starts to creep its way back into his bones.

“You sure know how to pick them, friend.” Ragnor shakes his head slowly. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so concerned of the secrets Magnus has hidden.

A pained smile, that’s what Ragnor sees next. He’s so obviously right and it’s painful, but Magnus won’t take back the moments he’s had with Alec, the promises forged as they silently stare at each other.

Not the awkward types of stares, but the _you’re so stunning I can’t find words to describe you,_ and the _please feel what I feel for you_ look that Magnus understood on the fifth night.

Magnus drops his focus to the floor, taking a deep breath that turns into a sob, reality hitting him square in the face.

What happened with Alec catches up with him, a cold shiver scratching over the surface of his skin, shaking him with a horrid thought that Ragnor won’t accept this. He’s his friend, and has been for many centuries, but something like this could break alliances.

Friendship can be seen as an alliance, and no matter how strong it is, history can tip the scales one way or another.

“It seems I do,” Magnus would laugh, but with Alec’s letter on repeat in his thoughts, Ragnor standing in front of him with eyes of concern - he can’t.

“And maybe this time, it will be my last mistake. Not because I’m tired of not finding love, but because this could cost me _everything.”_

Magnus jokes about his empire a lot, saying he can’t run it without other people and that he’s not worthy of it.

But for Magnus to _admit_ that he owns it, for him to admit that losing it would cost him more than just his wealth and title, but his _happiness_ and _tears -_ it rocks Ragnor to the _bone._

So Ragnor takes a breath, swallows his thoughts and walks towards him with a clear head. He’ll be a judge that has an open mind, an equal view on the rights and wrongs thanks to the rules of his King’s empire. They’ve followed them for years and years, it’s what got them here after all.

He holds out his hand, Magnus not looking as he silently speaks to himself in his own thoughts.

And he would have stayed like that if not for Ragnor speaking up. He never wanted it to come to this, where his friendship with Magnus becomes questionable, a doubt laid bare because he’s not sure how he’s going to take this news.

Magnus thought his own crown was heavy, a sickening gold that holds much more than beauty. In reality, all he’s felt is pain and torment, loneliness and longing - sometimes having those odd days of pride and enjoyment as he sees how much his rule gives people peace.

But how is he meant to live like _this?_

Of course, he has his duties, his job as a King - but surely he can have a life too? Perhaps one could argue he already has it all, that they’d tell him to stop complaining and simply _buy_ happiness where he can’t find it himself.

 _Disgusting,_ he’d say, to believe that happiness can be bought by wealth. Sure, other Kings do, but they don’t see the world as Magnus does.

They’re too blinded by alcohol, intoxicated by wealth, silenced by their own greed and desire to protect themselves and not their people.

Magnus never puts himself first - but times are changing, his _heart_ is changing.

Ragnor can see that, and he’s slowly watched Magnus become a different man, a man ultimately becoming _himself_ again. That’s not to say he couldn’t have done it without Alec, to see a change in his own soul, taking control of the reins again - but he’s certainly helped.

Alec is someone he can’t understand, a mystery to even Magnus.

His smiles make his stomach flip, his tough yet gentle hands able to play beautiful melodies. That voice, so deep yet formal, a secret hint of past royalty. Perhaps he’s the last mystery Magnus needs to solve.

All this hope, doubt, _anger -_ it’s all _Alec._

Life has never been easy, especially for Magnus.

As he looks at Ragnor’s hand, the bubble of hopeful thoughts he just had bursts like a needle to a balloon.

Ragnor stands in the way, a judgement almost, Magnus’ _slap in the face reality check._

“Magnus, give me that letter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep fighting to #saveshadowhunters!! Join us all on twitter to save the show!!
> 
> remember you can reach me through @karasunoflyy


	4. the first letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! so i made a mistake on the first chapter, whoops. I was meant to write that they've been writing and meeting secretly for a few months, not just one.
> 
> that error has been fixed, sorry about that!
> 
> an alec pov for this chapter :) enjoy! #FYAEfic
> 
> also, #saveshadowhunters

_**\- FOUR MONTHS AGO -** _

With winter approaching in eight months time, Alec’s work on the farm is far from over. Not only does he grow the food for himself and Max, but he grows a majority of produce for Anamire.

Not the King of Anamire, no, but the many inhabitants that live in the villages reaching around and outside the wealth stained walls. Alec doesn’t know most of them, only aware of three or four names, and those are enthusiastic elderly who think Alec is rather handsome.

They’ll stop him, smiling genuinely as they joke, laughing with a happiness that pays itself. Alec doesn’t ask for coin, nor does he demand favours in return, just that they feed themselves and their family fairly with what he gives. With his past, Alec desires nothing more than to give back, to give back to these people that otherwise would have perished under the Clave’s joint empire.

He’s behind on his jobs because of the marriage yesterday, and Max _convinced_ him to go through guilt alone. Max has never seen a marriage before, and plus, he wanted to explore the True King’s kingdom because they say there’s nothing like it elsewhere.

From how much he’s beaming when Alec walks through the door, every moment was worth it.

“Alec!” he runs towards his big brother, arms wide as Alec wipes the mud from his cheek.

“Have you been playing in that field again? You’re filthy.” Kneeling, Alec reaches for a clean sheet of fabric near the door to their cottage, rubbing the dirt off his face where he’s fallen over.

“And so are you,” Max laughs, smiling as Alec laughs back at him, “working too hard again.”

“No such thing as working too hard. Work is work, Max, my job is important.”

As Alec comes across a rough patch a mud that doesn’t want to come off, he guides Max over to their small kitchen, getting another piece of fabric and dabbing it in the bucket of water Max fetches every morning for them.

Lifting Max up onto the side, Alec removes any more dirt, taking off his coat so that he can wash it later.

“Did you manage to get everything done?” Max asks, watching as Alec makes sure there are no cuts on his hands or arms from playing.

Numerous times before, he’s come back with scratches from rocks on his arms, since the kids of the village like exploring probably more than they should. Alec doesn’t have the heart to tell him no, especially since he never fails to have a smile on his face when he comes home, talking about what odd creatures they’ve found. He worries about his safety, but he also knows Max is no child, and he’s mature enough to know the dangers of the outside world.

That’s one thing Alec promised himself, to let Max have a childhood, but also not to blind him from what the world really is. He’s growing with a childhood Alec never had, and even though Max persists he teaches him how to use a bow and arrow, he doesn’t do it until Max’s skin feels sore from drawing the string back more than he should.

It hurts to see what Alec could have had if his father was more of a father, and he dreads to think what Max’s life would have been like if he was still alive.

But god, he misses his mother, he misses his sister - more and more every day.

Max is the only one who remains of his family, and Alec will make it his life’s _mission_ to give him a life his father never would.

So for Max’s question, he can’t answer it. Not until Max has the life he wants, that he’s safe and away from the consequences of what their ancestors forced them to have.

“I guess a job is never truly done.” Alec replies, messing up Max’s hair to try and make him laugh.

But also to distract him, as Max has a habit of knowing when Alec is lying, or when he doesn’t want to believe something. He doesn’t know how he can when he’s just a young boy, but he’s always been smart enough to see the evil in someone before it causes him harm.

This time, he seems to ignore the little crack in Alec’s voice, the gulp after as he forces the guilt back down of what history he hides from him.

Max doesn’t know why their kingdom was attacked, nor does he know why people hate the Lightwoods.

Alec doesn’t have the strength or heart to tell him. There’s no need to remember what they can’t change.

Move on, find peace, find _safety._

The Downworld will never give him forgiveness, even if he wasn’t the one to make skies rain blood. Alec’s blood is history, a target on his back as soon as he was born, paralysed by it, crashing down on fragile bones before he can even walk.

A sick, small part of him wants to thank his father for being so cruel, how he taught him to survive and do whatever it takes to protect his family - but sometimes he thinks how it could have been different. If his father wasn’t the man people feared, the man that demanded rule - life could have been peaceful.

He’d still be there, and maybe, just _maybe,_ he could have been preparing to become King one day - to lead his own empire into the next age.

There’s always dreaming, though. At least he has that -

But what can he dream about when he _desires nothing?_

His own heart doesn’t allow him to dream, afraid that what his family is known for will come back to haunt him. _God forbid_ he becomes the man his father was, and his dreams are behind that fear.

Alec’s too scared to dream, because it changed the world last time someone did that. He lost his sister because of his father’s dream, he lost his mother because of his father’s greed.

To this day, it still makes him feel diseased, the last remaining strand of a plague that will no doubt spread once something flips in his brain. Max could never be him, or at least Alec hopes. He didn’t have the warrior upbringing like Alec did, so maybe he’ll have more time, time to learn how to dream without the gods looking down on him in shame.

It’s too late for Alec, and frankly, he never had a chance. His story was sealed as soon as his father put that bow in his hands, when he hit the first bullseye and saw his father smile proudly at him. Stupidity, that’s what it is, to believe his father ever cared about him and not the muscles memory that leads his army.

Max seems to notice the storm inside his head, and Alec is knocked from it when Max holds his face. His two little hands are so gentle, brown eyes staring back at Alec as he looks up to his brother, feeling a smile grow at Max’s own.

Using a thumb, Max wipes away some mud from where Alec must have wiped the sweat off his face with his wrist, Alec snorting when he realises how much Max looks after him too.

Without him, Alec bets he would have gone insane, driven by a desire for revenge or a guilt that burns him to the bone. He’s not lost with Max around, the rock that keeps him grounded when nothing else will.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” questions Alec, looking a little confused as to what he means, looking from one of his eyes to the other.

“Where you think too much,” Max replies, removing his hands from Alec’s face so he can put them back into his lap, swinging his legs, “you frown and push your lips together every few seconds like you just want to scream.”

Alec gains that conscious feeling of a pain in his head, Max slowly pulling him back to reality where he can feel his lips prick with a pain from his teeth. And when he realises that he’s right, Alec shakes his head, sighing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” punching his shoulder, Max looks almost angry that he apologised, “You always say you shouldn’t apologise for things that aren’t your fault. I don’t remember you doing anything that you need to apologise for.”

“You’re already getting too big for your boots, little guy,” he nudges Max back, smiling as Max shrugs like that statement isn’t true in the slightest, “but you’re right - I did say that.”

“There’s a reason to smile today anyway,” he wiggles off the side, jumping down and running to his bed, “an eagle arrived while you was out with a letter addressed to you!”

Alec feels a cold bullet drive through his spine, because _no one_ should be able to find out who he is, let alone have any interest to send him a letter.

“What? An eagle? What did it look like? What colour were the feathers?!” Alec’s sudden panicked state makes Max halt what he’s doing, looking over his shoulder as his brother walks over to him.

After a few seconds, Max turns his attention back to the floor, pulling up the floorboards as he reaches in to take out a wooden box, his name carved onto the lid. Alec gave him that box to keep his possessions safe, just incase the guards that do regular checks come in and want to take something completely worthless just to make their lives more miserable -

A small price to pay for safety.

“Alec… why do you look so scared?” as Max rises to a stand, he notices how Alec’s breathing has become a little forced, dragging out his inhales to try and steady himself.

“Max, give me the letter,” he basically snatches the parchment from his hands, looking for any sign that this letter is from the Clave. It _shouldn’t_ be, since they’re all but gone, but Alec won’t take that chance, “I don’t want you accepting any letters without me there, you got it?”

Bringing his hands together, Max nods, staying silent as Alec continues to look over the paper in a worried panic. There doesn’t seem to be anything telling him it’s the Clave, but there’s no taking chances for him anymore.

Alec steps back, turning towards the candles, about the light it when Max tugs on his arm.

“Wait!” he tugs again, trying to get Alec to listen to sense before he removes the letter, “It was King Magnus’ eagle! It had the royal emblem on its chest!”

_Magnus?_

Why would he send him a letter? It’s not like he would ever mean the words he said, and as nice as Alec believes he is, he doubts it was nothing more than the usual dialogue he speaks to people. Smile and nod, tell him what Alec wants to believe - he knows that tactic all too well.

But there’s this gnawing feeling that Magnus _could_ have meant what he said, and that this is the start of whatever stupid request the King wants of him. Good or bad, he doesn’t know, and even if Magnus is the only King Alec will kneel too, only the gods know what he’s really like.

Sighing, Alec scratches the back of his neck, turning to his brother and looking rather empty. He dreads what’s written inside, and now, the eagle probably waits in the clouds for his reply to take back.

“Don’t take another letter from an eagle, OK?” Alec’s tone isn’t so strangled anymore, it’s softer, more like he’s admitted defeat before he even knows what’s written.

“Why?”

That’s always the question, isn’t it? _Why?_

Why does Alec never tell him anything about their past? Why has he banned him from saying Lightwood?

Max frowns, looking up at his brother with all the conflicted anger he can muster. The way he pinches his own fingers gently, lips pursed, light brown eyes staring back and forth between Alec’s hand that holds the letter and his face.

“There’s a lot of things I wish I could tell you,” he kneels, placing one hand on Max’s shoulder and squeezing, “but know that you aren’t ready. I myself, am not ready to tell you.”

“I’m not a kid,” Max argues, looking away in what Alec would call his usual tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants. This time though, he does look taken back, like he’s so close to finding out a secret he should know in the first place, “and we can fight. You’re a warrior, you can protect me, you can train me. How is a letter going to do anything?”

“In this world, you’re still a kid. Trained or not, there are… _people_ out there that won’t care what age you are, what gender, what height or battle training you have - this world is ruthless Max, don’t be blinded so foolishly.”

At those last few words, Max shoves Alec’s hand away from his shoulder, huffing as he keeps his eyes away from staring directly at Alec. He knows his big brother has years ahead of him, that he can see more sense than he does, that he has more experience since they’re surviving through him alone on some days - but Max doesn’t want to be feel like this _burden_ to him anymore.

“Look,” Alec sighs, bowing his head to gather his thoughts for a few seconds before continuing, “I don’t want this life for you. It should have gone differently, but our ancestors didn’t think of our future. This is not mine, nor your blame to carry. If I hide you from the cruelty of this world, if I’m not there when--”

Feeling a stone form in his throat, Alec grits his teeth together, eyes meeting Max’s as they begin to moisture.

“You’re the _only_ thing I have left Max. _Please_ don’t think I keep things from you because you’re weak, I do it because I love you, and if I’m not ready to tell you, then you won’t be ready to hear it. You’re my little brother, you mean the world to me, and I _can’t_ lose you too.”

Max seems to calm, his eyes scanning Alec’s face with a newfound sorrow that he feels through how Alec speaks. The tremble on his lips, the way his hand squeezes his shoulder as he stutters his speech - he’s trying to pick up the pieces quicker than he’s breaking apart, and it _hurts._

“I promise,” his little voice breaks the silence, the brothers suspended in thought as Alec almost cried out those words, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You weren’t to know, I haven’t received a letter in almost ten years by now.” Alec chuckles, Max smiling as he does, adjusting the blanket he’s wrapped around himself.

“Maybe he really _is_ inviting you on a date,” Max’s smile widens at Alec’s blank face, “and there’s only one way to find out!”

“No way are you reading this with me, you have to go get cleaned up and wash your clothes,” Alec gives him a look when Max shakes his head, wanting to stay here while he reads the letter, “go on.”

Sighing, Max eventually gives up with the puppy eyes and walks on, grabbing a towel and a fresh pair of clothes to change into once he’s done.

Once Max is out of sight in their bathroom, Alec leans his back against the kitchen side, feeling the stone dig into his spine. It’s nothing compared to the racing thump of his heart becoming almost painful, standing there staring at the letter in his hands.

How did it come to this?

A letter addressed to Alec himself, from the True King of the Downworld empire.

_To Alec of Anamire_

He stares down at the curvature of Magnus’ writing, elegant but not too fancy that it becomes almost impossible to read. Just enough flare, just enough power. One question does linger though, and he’s not sure why he even asks it - but did Magnus write these words with magic or his own hands?

And why does that thought _bother_ him so much?

Someone _pinch_ him, or _punch him_ so he doesn’t have to wake up for a while.

With the sound of water splashing in the background, Alec brings the letter forward, pulling the red string of the bow. The paper has aged well, only a few cuts and places where the wind battled against the eagle as it flew here.

Slowly unravelling the string from around the letter, Alec peels off the wax seal, Magnus’ royal emblem stamped into the hot wax when Magnus finished writing it. A dragon holding the sun, the style of it geometric, shapes forming what needs to be told in a way that’s minimal. Alec keeps both the string and the seal in his hand while he reads, his thumb feeling the print of the wax seal like it’ll ground him to reality.

It really _is_ Magnus writing to him, and Alec doesn’t know if he’s scared or excited as to what this might mean for his and Max’s future.

 

_Dear Alec,_

_This is High King Magnus Bane writing to you._

_Do not worry, I haven’t used my magic to track you, nor have I marked that flower to notify me of your location. I simply sent my scouts to that Kingdom to gather information. Your address isn’t even labelled to Anamire, so I have a special eagle to deliver my letter and return yours -_

_That’s if you do write back, of course._

_I am writing to invite you back to my kingdom. Your visit was for your kingdom’s alone, and who I assume is your little brother was quite sad to leave._

_I for one would like to give him the chance to explore, to let him have a few hours to let his imagination run with the dragons._

_And maybe that will give us time to talk, since I did rather enjoy it last time, no matter how shy and withdrawn you were._

_It’s the least I can do for the man who made that horrifically boring day so interesting. Marriage is rather dull, don’t you think? To tie yourself to someone and hope they won’t leave?_

_But alas, I wouldn’t know that myself, and I doubt you want to read about this._

_I will be sending the eagle back to you tomorrow morning. Place one petal where you tie it together, or melt wax over it, however you usually finish your letters._

_It will allow my eagle to pinpoint where you leave it so it can bring it back._

_I hope this letter doesn’t bring you trouble. I mean no harm, nor do I want any services, and I know that may be hard to believe._

_I find you to be interesting, Alec. I simply want to get to know you more._

_And if you do not reply, then I wish you good fortune, and that no foul may ever come to your farm or your heart._

 

_King Magnus Bane, Royal ruler of the Downworld_

 

Well, he can’t forget royalties, can he?

Alec just finds it chillingly amusing that he’s attracted the attention of one of the most powerful beings on this rock. A man who with the Downworld behind him, brought an end to the Clave.

A Lightwood, right under his nose.

King _Magnus Bane_ wants to talk to Alec, a farm boy. Albeit he’s a farm boy with a dark and heavy past, but the Alec he is to Magnus surely isn’t all that exciting.

He may sugar coat his words, but Alec is no stranger to these royal lies, the way they twist and warp them to seem like a warm summer day. It’s all fun and smiles until they realise it’s not what they thought, because they speak those lies until they work people like putty into their hands. Lightwoods are no exception, except Max, and it’s only a matter of time before Alec becomes the same person thanks to his DNA.

Sighing, Alec places both of his hands behind him onto the counter, grinding his teeth because for once he’s actually _considering_ it.

Not for himself, _god no -_ he knows what Magnus _really_ wants, and if that’s a small price to pay for Max to explore the world a little, then why not?

He’s ruining himself at his own expense, and perhaps that’s not the best way to go about it, but what does Alec have to fall back on?

If he becomes a regular, maybe, just _maybe_ Max might become a resident there. He’ll be safe. There’s no way Magnus will find out he’s a Lightwood, and for Max’s age, even if they do find out they can’t possibly judge him for being like them. Max is just a kid, and if they date his age back to the time of the Lightwoods fall, he was only 8.

They’ve survived out here for four years, dodging in and out of the dark when places don’t feel as safe anymore. Thankfully here, in Anamire, the guards and rulers don’t seem to bother with their inhabitants unless they really need too.

Good for them, bad for the citizens that need dire help. It’s an accident waiting to happen, really.

Max comes back a few minutes later, wet hair sticking out in places, but he’s now cleaned and freshly clothed.

Alec smiles at him, getting one from from his smaller brother, “Better?”

He nods, yawning as he stumbles over tiredly to Alec, bumping into his leg so he can lean on it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in the letter?”

“Hmm,” he really does debate if he should tell him or not, but since this is about Max as well, there’s no point keeping it hidden, “The King wants us to go visit his kingdom for a day.”

 _“Really?”_ Max’s face _beams_ with excitement, gaining a healthy dose of energy in mere seconds, looking up to try and see what’s written, “He’s invited us back?”

“Apparently it’s specifically for you.” he doesn’t let Max see the letter, especially because the word _services_ might bring up a few awkward questions.

And that little fact, Magnus writing to them because of Max’s eagerness and fascination with the magic of his kingdom - it gives him a small little ounce of pride. Alec’s practically raised him at this point, and if he was anything like his father, Max would have turned out to be the stubborn, emotionless warrior Alec was made to be.

 _“Awesome!”_ Max laughs as he runs towards his backpack, trying to gather the things he needs for the trip.

“Hang on buddy,” Alec rolls up the letter, placing it on the shelf out of Max’s reach, “I have yet to decide if it’s worth going. The farm needs work and I’m not letting some stranger take you.”

He drops his rucksack, Alec expecting the pout of his lips, proving himself right when Max turns around to look at him, “But… _why?_ You said no last time, I don’t want to stay here my entire life.”

Alec walks up to him, picking up the rucksack and placing it back to where he had it resting before. Hearing those words is more painful than he imagined them being, and frankly, Alec isn’t sure if he can deny them.

Nothing is guaranteed for them, not anymore. They don’t have wealth to back them up or thousands of people bending the knee to them - they’re on their own. Alec never relied on that before, but in times like this, he can see the drastic difference and how much the wealthy take it for granted.

“You won’t.” Alec gives him a reassuring smile, squeezing Max’s shoulder in a gesture that tries to comfort, but it doesn’t work this time.

“You keep saying that too, Alec,” he mumbles, looking down to the floor as Alec frowns, “you always say things won’t be like this forever, that we’ll find somewhere new. Why lie?”

“I’m not lying-”

“But _you are!_ We have a chance to go do something new and you have to _think_ about it? The True King has been nothing but nice to us, and his kingdom is much more happy than _this!”_ Max gestures around himself, referencing the kingdom they currently reside in.

“This is also part of Magnus’ empire, Max,” Alec stands back up, walking away as Max follows with heavy steps, “but just because everywhere is under Magnus’ rule, doesn’t mean they follow it.”

“I’m tired of you telling me the world is dangerous! Just because it is doesn’t mean we need to hide away forever! Maybe the King is our way out of here if he likes us, we could have a new home there!”

Alec doesn’t reply, he just stands there in silence.

Everything he wants to say will break Max, it’ll make him crumble and lose belief that there’s going to be a day where they can be happy. Why do words have to mean so much to Alec and mean so little to Max? He’s young, of course, but when Alec was Max’s age, he was already learning how to pick himself up from being thrown to the ground by a man twice his size.

“Fine!” Max grits his teeth, clenched fists as he walks towards the door, “we’ll do what _you_ say, like we _always_ do.”

But he stops as he’s about to close the door, fingertips turning white from how much his little hands grip the edge of it.

“I wish mother and Izzy never died, they wouldn’t let us die here.”

A mental sword sheaths itself through Alec’s chest as the door slams shut, a rush of moisture spreading over the surface of his eyes.

_If mother and Isabelle were here._

Oh how that _hurts,_ how it _burns_ Alec’s skin with regret -

If he was faster, if he was _stronger -_ maybe, just _maybe,_ they would have been here today.

If he stopped himself from believing his father, if he saw his evil and manipulative ways early on in life - the Lightwood kingdom could have survived.

Leaning against the side, Alec’s head hangs, chest seizing up with the will to sob, choking out his first cry.

Words are so powerful, and sometimes, saying the wrong things can lead to a world of suffering and dread. Five minutes ago, Max was smiling as Alec came home, and now he’s left with a matching expression of tears because he thinks Alec doesn’t believe in him.

He wants to tell him, he wants to tell Max who they are, their past - but he just _can’t._

Magnus could be their salvation, but he’s scared it could also be their downfall. Nothing has ever gone right for Alec, and surely if fate wants that, this could be a luring trap waiting to snatch him up in the ropes of an endless and hopeless dream once again.

Slamming his fist against the side, he curses his own life through the grind of his teeth, idly rubbing the wax seal with his thumb in the hand that holds it.

The world has changed, and Alec still lives in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you people are enjoying this! i'm loving writing smaller chapters and fixing what was deleted/left out. this was only meant to be two chapters if people wanted more, but I guess there's no point leaving out what I intended to be in the story from the start
> 
> remember you can find me @karasunoflyy
> 
> see you next time!


	5. the first night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still in the past for this one :) it'll be like that until stated otherwise!
> 
> enjoy! :) ty for all the love!
> 
> #FYAEfic

Magnus would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited at seeing the eagle fly through his window, just as the sun settles at 7pm in the sky. That slot between five minutes before and five minutes after 7 would become the usual time, but Magnus doesn’t know this yet.

Inspecting the letter, he notices golden wax, not _real_ gold but the rich colour could fool anyone not trained in the art of fine jewellery. What seems to be his initials, _AL,_ are printed into the wax, a delicate fold at the bottom and top of the letter for the edges to meet in the middle.

For a man who works on a farm, his presentation is almost immaculate, a presentation expected of a _royal._ Magnus doesn’t dwell on it, as the little angel on his shoulder whispers that Alec’s trying to impress him, whereas the devil grunts about some ego Alec has, not wanting to be reduced to a mere farm boy.

And then his skin itches, remembering the sour words Alec spoke to him; _Because I’m just some farm boy, right?_

His excitement dwindles as he reads rejection, blatantly blunt, slightly harsh, and perhaps Magnus was foolish in believing Alec would sing at the chance to come back. If he remembers correctly, Alec didn’t look like he wanted to be there at all. He does however, remember the smile Alec had when Max looked around the kingdom in all his childlike wonder. Max was the reason he went, that he agreed to follow Anamire’s kingdom and celebrate a marriage.

Bunch of nonsense, Magnus thinks, sulking as he puts the letter aside, not wanting to read it again;

 

_To True King Bane,_

_I will have to say no to your invitation. There is work to be done here, and I do not want to send my brother alone without my protection._

_Apologies,_

_Alec_

 

That doesn’t mean Magnus gave up, since he _did_ reply to him. After all, it would be rude to not send a reply himself, to give his own apology that Alec can’t attend, and neither can his brother. In fact, he’s rather happy he’s so protective over Max, as one can not be too careful in this world.

 

_To Alec,_

_I humbly thank you for your reply. I am here to send my apologies that you cannot come. Hopefully, I will be able to see you when time will allow it._

_Magnus_

 

Alec noticed his lack of formal conclusion, pursing his bottom lip as he ponders over it. Max seems to notice, having given up on his whole silent treatment early this morning. As soon as Alec sent his reply last night, Max knew he was doing this to protect both of them, not just Max. No doubt it has taken long for him to realise that, but making Alec smile _does_ ease his older brother a lot, and as he puts the letter down, Alec looks full with regret.

Perhaps Magnus _is_ genuine. Perhaps he could be the start of something new for them, a hope while they hide under his nose. It’s risky, but when has there ever been a reward without some form of risk?

“Are you alright, brother?” Max asks, placing down his bucket of water, mud on his face from a hard morning of work. He sent his reply to Magnus last night.

“Yeah,” Alec sighs out, forcing a smile as he looks down at his little brother, “fine.”

“Is that--,” he points to the letter Alec is holding, Alec turning the wax seal in his other hand, “From Magnus?”

He battles with himself that he shouldn’t lie to Max, but he’s intelligent enough to know it’s Magnus before Alec even confirms it. Magnus is the _only_ person who writes to them. So Alec hums, nodding his head slightly.

“Are you… going to do anything about it?” Max questions, shrugging his shoulders when Alec glares at him. There’s no evil behind it, Max being aware they’re not going back to Magnus anytime soon, so he can joke a little. In fact, it makes the sadness a little easier to cope with.

The question doesn’t help Alec’s already loud thoughts, feeling the emblem in the wax once more to try and ground his decision, “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.” Alec hands him the letter, much to Max’s surprise, who double checks with Alec to make sure it _is_ what he intended to do. When Alec nods, gesturing his hand towards the letter, Max reads.

He brings it up to his face, Alec smiling a little as Max concentrates on reading out loud. Alec taught him to read and write years ago, but reading has always been a struggle for him. “When time will -- _allow it?_ What does he mean by that?”

“When we’re free from farm duties, he wants us to go.” and Max’s face drops, the small little amount of amusement he has on his face vanishing like it was never there in the first place.

“So, never?”

Alec’s lips form a tight line. Seeing his brother in such a conflicted state pulls at his heart, and when he weakly holds the letter to give it him back, the letter falls to the floor. Max doesn’t even try to catch it, and he stares at it on the floor like a bird has died at his feet.

Shuffling breaks little Max from his thoughts, Alec kneeling to meet him face the face, picking up the letter and handing it back to Max. “Keep it.”

“But, why?” Taking it back, Max holds the letter close, but this time his grip is firm not to drop it.

“Just incase,” he begins to smile, watching Max’s eyes light up with what he says next, “nothing is ever impossible.”

_Alec, nothing is ever impossible._

The words of his mother speak through his own lips now, and Max can feel his tears swell, leaping forward to fall into Alec’s arms and hug him.

Alec’s been thinking a lot, this past night.

With all they’ve been through, maybe Max deserves a day of exploration, just once, something for him to remember. And as the thanks of his brother cry into his shoulder, Alec hugs him tighter, because Max clearly knows where his words came from.

If Magnus really is a good King, then Alec will find out. He will keep writing letters, to see how far he can push his _charming_ exterior to breaking point, where the walls will cave in and Alec can see who he truly is. Then, and only then, will Alec believe who he really is.

“I promise you, when we can, we will go.”

Alec’s words didn’t mean much when the plague arrived. Because the time he told him to wait is rapidly disappearing. Even as he stayed inside, Alec working the farm and noticing the cough spread around the people he greets in the morning, he explicitly banned Max from going outside.

He still caught it, his tiny little body is strong, but not strong enough.

He follows what his mother taught him, herbs, rest, plenty of water. Everything Alec did, it didn’t do anything, and in his panic and fight to save his brother, he never replied to Magnus’ last letter. There’s been a few letters exchanged since his apology of Alec not being able to visit -- in fact, he forgot Magnus even _existed,_ his vision and focus funneling into very few thoughts;

_Save Max --_

_He’s the only family you have left --_

_Save him, so you can keep your promise --_

And he cried, he _cried and cried_ into the blanket Max lay on, his breathing rough and strangled. It’s almost as if the gods were punishing Alec for not taking Max, and now, he truly wished he did. Somewhere in his mind, he has images of staying there, of escaping the plague that has swarmed the village of Anamire.

When he wakes up beside Max, he feels his own lungs have become weaker, and he coughs up whatever contents he struggled to eat last night over the floor.

 _Shit,_ he thinks, trying to push himself to a stand and get it cleaned up, to give Max more medicine --

But the silence brings him horror. As aching as it feels to say, he can’t hear the struggled breathing or sniffs of a runny nose. Looking over to his brother, his breathing is so shallow that he mistakes him for not breathing at all, and his bones tremble with the thought.

 _“No, no, no no no no--”_ Alec places his hand against his cheek, and he’s _boiling,_ fever escalating far above what it was yesterday, and Alec can feel his eyes sting with tears.  

He scrambles to the bucket, the water gone.

Cursing himself for not getting more before the night fell, he groaned as he got to his feet, almost falling over. And Alec doesn’t remember much until the door opens easier than he expected, since the door weighed so heavy yesterday --

Magnus is standing there, in all his glory, skin clear and healthy. Clumsily, Alec’s brain doesn’t register him, and in his haste to save his brother and collect water, _without_ the bucket in his hand, he collides into Magnus. The doorframe no longer supports him, and gravity carries him forward.

That’s when he realises, and his eyes open wide.

“O-oh _shit, I--,”_ he can’t seem to produce words, a blood curdling cough sounding from his throat, “I’m sorry my King, I didn’t see you.”

Magnus hushes him, helping him with a hand to his chest and walking him back into the house. Max is laying on the table with various candles around him, trying to sweat the disease out of him as Alec seems to be risking himself to save his brother. The stench is rotten, but Magnus can’t blame Alec for not taking a shower or trying to clean up the place when his little brother is losing the battle to a plague.

“Alec, why did you not message me about this plague?” he asks, rushing to Max’s side to save him, knowing Alec has more strength than the boy does to last that bit longer.

He can’t look him in the eye, not when his entire life has been running from royals to help save him. Thankfully Magnus isn’t looking at him, to see the tears roll down his cheeks in a moment of relief. Magnus can save him, surely. “Because my life is insignificant. Our own _King_ doesn’t care to help us, so why would anyone?”

Clenching his teeth, Magnus is _infuriated_ at the high council for not spotting this earlier - _especially_ the rulers of this kingdom for ignoring it. It’s true, what Alec said. Especially to himself and how much his past strikes him through the gut on a daily basis. Magnus doesn’t know, of course, but he _wants_  to know -- to know why this man so determined to save his own brother would risk his own health in the process.

No normal man would do that, not in this age.

Magnus eventually succeeds, and as he heals Max, Alec watches in awe. He truly didn’t understand the fascination Magnus’ people had with magic until he’s this close, where he can feel the warmth of it, see the delicate shine in the way it moves.

Alec from years ago would be pushing him away, cursing his hellish magic simply because he doesn’t understand it, _especially_ since he doesn’t know Magnus all that well. He could be tapping into Max’s memories right now, uncovering their secrets and sentencing Alec to death--

But he isn’t, simply focusing with the twitch of his brow to banish the plague in Max’s body.

The pale skin of his face isn’t so sharp anymore, and his breathing sounds like _breathing,_ not sandpaper against wood or faint little whispers of something _trying_ to be there. Magnus looks a little exhausted from using that much energy, but he smiles as he places his hand on the small boy’s forehead.

“He’ll recover smoothly. I’m sure of it, just make sure he gets some rest.” with one final look over Max’s vitals with his magic, he curls his fingers inwards, letting the blue magic return to his palm. Alec is still coughing, but his eyes manage to focus on the two of them, blur present at the edges of his vision.

He tries to muster thanks, but his lungs don’t have the power to do it, and he leans over onto the side to try and muffle the sounds. Even now, he tries to be strong for his brother when Max can’t even see him.

Alec jolts when he feels Magnus’ hand on his arm, looking at him over his shoulder, the soft tone of his voice calming him more than he thought it would, “Now it’s your turn,” he gestures to the chair behind him, which Alec slumps into after a few seconds of mental protest with himself. “This shouldn’t hurt,” Magnus teases, but it doesn’t manage to bring a smile to Alec’s face, “just let me take care of you for a moment.”

Glaring at him, Alec huffs, turning his head away from his face after a few seconds of quiet judgement. It’s not that he _doesn’t_ want to look at him, but he still doesn’t trust him in every sense of the word. He _has_ saved Max as far as he knows, yet that is still to be confirmed.

A cold slithers over his skin, an unknown feeling that stirs worry in his gut, and before he can tell himself no, he looks down to the hand hovering above his chest. He shifts a little, like he’s scared of what he’ll feel when the magic searches deep within him.

“Hey,” Magnus starts, prompting Alec to look up at him, “don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you.”

Alec can’t tell what he sees in Magnus’ eyes when the warlock smiles, and something tells him deep down that it would be dangerous to find out what. There’s a curiosity however, a curiosity that keeps him staring for a moment longer than he probably should.

His magic feels -- _odd,_ like ghostly hands that search and pull at various bones. Alec can feel the pain ebbing away once his magic traces over where he’s been, a strange sensation that cools the fever that’s only just starting to take control of the warrior’s body. Magnus doesn’t look at him again, eyes closed and turning his hands in ways that you’d turn dials, working his magic like a surgeon, a machine where every wire and bolt is controlled by Magnus’ increment movements.

And when it stops, his magic slithers back out the way it came, almost as if his soul pours from his chest into Magnus’ palm. Just like that, he’s healed, and Alec can take a deep breath that doesn’t make him gag.

Magnus doesn’t move from where he kneels in front of him, meeting Alec’s eyes as he gives his attention back to the King, confusion and awe painted over his face. He doesn’t know what to say to Magnus after that, and thanks doesn’t seem to cut it close to what the King truly deserves.

“I--,” Alec stutters, not used to the freedom of his voice when his vocals were so rough minutes ago, “I have payment for you, coins. Just name the price and I’ll work to meet it.”

For a moment, Alec feels he’s said something to amuse the King due to his smirk, but he shakes his head and stands.

“I don’t want payment, Alec. I did this because you and your brother are good people.”

_Are we? My last name says otherwise._

“You saved our _lives,_ there was absolutely no way herbs and praying would have done anything. Please, I -- I owe you that at least.” Alec was so optimistic, hoping Max would get better, but the bitter reality of neither of them surviving was always there, heavy in his mind but not wanting to believe it.

Looking down at him, Magnus can feel something poking at his heart. To see the obvious guilt in the farm boy’s eyes, to see him clutch to the side of the chair like it’s his lifeline, it truly breaks something inside of Magnus.

“I can’t, Alec, that is not who I am,” and with that news, Alec drops his head, knuckles going white. Whoever this man is, he strives for good, to be fair in ways that are possible. It’s a trait Magnus rarely sees, even in his own kingdom sometimes, so the least he can do is ease his mental strain of wanting to give something back, “but I can offer something.”

“And that is?”

“A request,” Magnus can already see Alec’s brain turning as he tries to think of what he wants, “to come to my castle, for one day or one night. Simple company is all I ask, and the time of day is your choice.”

A shy laugh fills the room, and Magnus think he’s said something wrong to gain that reaction. To his amusement, it’s quite the opposite.

“I guess I can’t say no to your letters now, can I?” he smiles, standing up, a sigh breaking through his cracked lips. He knows what this is, what _company_ entails for these royals, but he’ll do it so his conscious doesn’t weigh on him for the rest of his life. “But you must promise me one thing.”

“What is that?” with a chance of Alec _finally_ agreeing to visit his kingdom again, he’ll listen closely to whatever promise he has to make.

“Me, going to your castle, it could spell danger if someone were to know. Especially for you.” Alec searches his face for the reaction to that, and Magnus doesn’t quite catch on to what he means.

“What are you on about, Alec? My people will have no idea who you are--,”

“Just -- _listen._ I will agree to go, but I don’t want me sneaking around at _night_ to cause issues for your council. Plus, I will have to sneak out of here to even meet you, because the King here does not allow villagers out of the gate during the night. I can’t leave in the day because my duty here is too important, and the guards will know if I’m gone. I will have Max stay at a friends to guarantee his safety.”

“Ah,” he catches on, giving him a small nod. Frankly, he’s quite happy Alec even considers Magnus in this ordeal too. To have Alec thinking about Magnus and not just his own safety is very _strange,_ but he won’t complain that someone _cares_ for once outside of his usual group, “then do we have a deal? I can provide transport if you need it.”

“I can borrow a horse, and I’ll travel for your kingdom at dusk.” he smiles, and Alec doesn’t know why.

Or, he just denies the real reason he feels so giddy -- _adventure._

Even if what awaits him at Magnus’ castle is not exactly the ideal outcome he hoped for in terms of payment, the sense of adventure to go there is what drives him to be excited. A nightly stroll, to put up his hood and act like someone important. Just the thrill of sneaking around sparks something in his bones, the games of hide and seek as a child come to mind, where he’d win simply because he dared to climb and search for the trickiest hiding spots.

“I will look forward to seeing you, Alec,” Magnus’ smile is contagious, because Alec finds himself smiling too, albeit a small one, but a smile nonetheless, “may your brother have safe dreams.”

As Magnus leaves, Alec watches, his heart jumping for a moment because the reality of what he agreed to sinks in. _Fuck._ He literally agreed to what he never said he would do, all because guilt shakes his bones, wanting to repay him for saving his little brother’s life.

For the rest of the day, Alec cleans up the mess in their cottage, checking Max every few minutes to make sure the plague is truly gone. To his relief, he’s sleeping soundly well into the night, and when he awakes, he smiles, saying that Magnus arrived to save them both. He’ll give credit where credit is due, and even though Max thanks him for trying to heal him, he doesn’t feel he deserves it. Without Magnus, Max wouldn’t have lasted another hour.

The painful part is, Magnus knew that when he used his magic.

But with Alec, Magnus felt something else along with his plague, something much heavier that played on his mind. He could hear Alec’s thoughts, over and over again;

_I have to save him, he’s the only one I have left --_

_This is all my fault, I’m nothing without mother --_

_If I was quicker, I could have saved them --_

Those thoughts stayed with Magnus for the rest of the day, an itch at the tip of his fingertips like regret. He could have taken that pain away, but he was there to heal a plague, not Alec’s past. A pain like that, it takes time, not just magic.

 

 _-_ **_THE NEXT DAY_ ** _-_

Today is the day where he sees Alec again, and as he pushes open his curtains, the dawn of a new day has never been so welcome in Magnus’ eyes. He doesn’t know what to expect, or if Alec simply said yes to get him off his back, but he sincerely hopes he does keep his end of the deal.

Alec is stubborn beyond what Magnus thought possible, being unfairly beautiful but so _broody_ at the same time. Magnus truly wonders if there was a time before this Alec, where he smiles constantly, a happy, chirpy tone to his voice to match the warm colours of his eyes.

Perhaps not, but he can surely create that Alec in his head. He doesn’t see why he needs too, because the Alec he’s so intrigued by is the broody, frowny, _I’m going to reply to your every letter even though I keep saying no to all your requests -_ Alec.

That thought makes him chuckle as he ventures down hallways in his castle, a newly found spring in his step, much to Ragnor’s annoyance. “Let me guess, they _finally_ agreed.”

Magnus winks, not giving Ragnor the satisfaction of a yes. All his friend does is sigh, clutching papers close to his chest as he goes through the usual checklist.

To his surprise, Magnus says no to the most surprising one.

“Why does everyone think I intend to have sex with people I invite over?” the King argues, grumbling to himself at such a predicted betrayal of his friend.

“I could write a list for you,” Ragnor mumbles, shrugging his shoulders as Magnus glares at him, “Well, for one, every person you have labelled _beautiful_ in some way or another has left your quarters early in the morning, giggling and unable to wipe a smile off their face. Unless you had a glorious game of chess, then _please_ , prove me wrong.”

“You forget that was ages ago, literal _ages_ in scrolls _._ It has been a long, _long_ time since the age of my late night chess games.” Magnus captures Ragnor’s amused little smirk at the connection he made to his joke.

“Why the sudden change?”

“I--,” Magnus pinches the bridge of his nose, “There’s something about them, alright? I can read people well, as you are aware, but this one seems to be immune. Not to my magic, but -- they’re puzzling.”

Placing down his papers, Ragnor gives Magnus his full attention, whereas before he was mentally checking things off in his head and what tasks he still needs to do today. “Puzzling in what way?”

“That’s exactly it!” He claps, not sure why he did, since he didn’t really solve anything.

Ragnor just remains silent until Magnus catches on that he doesn’t get what he means.

“What I mean is -- I don’t know in what way that they’re puzzling, otherwise, I’d be able to solve it.”

“Well,” He gives Magnus a reassuring smile, one the King didn’t know he needed until he saw it, “Your gut is never wrong, my friend. Maybe there is more to them then they’re letting on.”

Magnus kept his promise, and he kept it well, because he didn’t even tell Ragnor about Alec. All he told him is that _someone_ is coming, because the letters didn’t go unnoticed by his friend.

A sigh of relief falls from Magnus’ lips as night falls, the distinct shadow of a hooded man on horseback arriving just as midnight ticks, completing the day. He’s also nervous, a rare trait Magnus possess in the most odd of times. Mainly because he doesn’t know who this man is, and opting to secure a meeting with him so late is rather worrying.

Choosing to wait outside, the cold of the night becomes even colder.

He can protect himself, he knows that, but something bothers him greatly. Magnus feels that Alec only agreed out of sheer guilt, since Magnus wouldn’t accept his coins.

And then it hits him, that Alec sees him denying all that just to get him back here, to his castle, to his room --

_No, this is not what I wanted at all._

As the horse comes to a stop at the archway of where they first spoke, where he handed him the flower, Magnus walks up to greet him. The guards are nowhere to be seen, mostly in just this area so that Alec could come towards the castle without raising alarm. He can walk into the kingdom fine, but the whole getting past the guards that protect his kingdom required a small trick.

There’s a wall at the back of his castle, and if Magnus so wishes, he can make the bricks part, giving a small gateway for Alec’s horse to walk through, up to the garden and completely ignoring the usual route of the guards.

His lips part, but he finds his words missing. For a moment, they just look at eachother, Alec doing so from under the shadow of his hood. Magnus can feel his eyes on him, the horse shaking its head between them.

Both of them are struck with the nerves of not knowing what to say. But since Alec is the guest, Magnus builds up the courage to speak.

“I trust you used the passage I told you about,” he smiles, and Alec doesn’t react, dismounting the horse, “Otherwise we might have been in different circumstances.”

“I--,” Alec begins, placing one of his hands on the neck of the horse, thumb moving slightly. It’s one of his neighbour’s horses, the kind man letting him borrow the shy steed since he offers such fresh food to their family, “I apologise, for wanting to organise it so late.”

Magnus shakes his head, gesturing him to follow, to which Alec stutters, motioning to the horse. “Oh, there is a field of grass here,” pointing to the left of him, where a gap in the arch of trees is present. Magnus waits at the entrance while Alec guides the horse through, “and do not fret about the time. I am aware of how tough your kingdom’s laws are. To be on lockdown after that plague must be frightening, especially if it comes back.”

Alec nods, a silent agreement.

Letting the horse go, it stands confused, looking to Alec until it realises it’s free, trotting around the large open space before finding a spot to graze. Magnus smiles at the horse, not knowing that Alec is watching him to the side, a giddy and uneasy feeling in the farm boy’s stomach.

“Shall we?” the King says after a minute, making sure the horse feels at home before they walk back to the archway, back towards his castle. Once again, Alec doesn’t talk, simply nodding his head as he feels the words that’ll fall from his lips will be ones of fright, or desperation because he doesn’t know what’ll happen.

Pushing open the doors, Alec is greeted by floating candles, high ceilings, carved marble, lush drapes and carpet, exotic foods and birds flying over his head. It takes Magnus talking to break the overwhelming awe he feels, expecting dark and broody halls, sculptures of gods and plain walls. This is the complete opposite, and he’s a fool for thinking otherwise, because the castle matches the owner through and through.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, much better,” he puts his hands behind his back, looking to Magnus’ feet and how he can see them through the transparency of his floral cape. Their footsteps are silent in the large, echoing halls, and Alec wonders if this castle holds any magical secrets thanks to its magical owner, “thanks to you.”

“Your thanks is humble, but there is no need. I was simply doing what any King should do for their people.”

“You speak so highly of Kings, and yet I thought you were immortal. Did you not see the Kings of past?” his words make Magnus feel a little off, and he can’t place why.

“Did you hate the rulers of before? Perhaps in textbooks you read of their horrors?” Magnus replies, choosing to walk beside him instead of in front. He still can’t see his face anyway.

For one moment, he thinks that this guy isn’t Alec, that he’s impersonating him, but he’d recognise that voice anywhere. Magnus never forgot how harsh that _no_ was the first time he heard it.

Alec chuckles at his question, and Magnus finds himself wanting to hear it again, despite the itch of something hidden within it, “I guess you could say that.”

_Because my father is in those textbooks, and so am I._

_The Mad King’s son walks right beside you._

He sincerely hopes the warlock doesn’t possess mind reading, or Alec _is_ screwed. The only reason why he’s still alive is because no one put down what he looks like. And even now, he goes by Alec, not Alexander as the books state. In honesty, he hopes Magnus doesn’t expect him to even be alive, with the rest of his family and kingdom falling to flames.

“Hmm, well, thankfully our age is free of them. Granted there are slackers, but none as evil as before.” Magnus smiles, but it’s not one Alec can see.

They arrive at his room a minute or so later, letting Alec look around in silence. He lets Alec in first, gesturing with his hand, checking behind them before walking in himself.

As Magnus shuts his door, the atmosphere drops.

Whatever he expected Alec to do, he hasn’t done it. Some sort of feeling, anxiety, it nulls Magnus’ thoughts.

And then he realises what it was, hands still on the door as the silence becomes awfully cold. Magnus imagined Alec taking his turned back as an opportunity to strike, to take the riches for himself so he doesn’t have to be on that farm anymore.

But he’s still walking, and then the sound of his footsteps stop.

Magnus turns, the moonlight painting the furniture of his royal bedroom. The red sheets become almost pink, candles mix in hues of orange and yellow, his floors a rich mahogany. There is more wealth in this room than Alec’s entire savings back at the cottage.

Words hang on the edge of Magnus’ tongue, wanting to introduce himself -- but he realises he’s already done that. Perhaps he’ll ask if he wants tea? Some food since he had a long journey here, perhaps? His train of thought stops as Alec speaks, his voice low with a hint of nerves.

“This is a -- lovely room.” the King can hear the gulp after his words, the shuffle of his feet.

Almost as if Alec fears the worst to happen, just like Magnus does.

“Thank you,” Magnus finds himself smiling, but Alec doesn’t return it, still facing away towards his bed, “I tried to clean up a little, so please excuse any mess you see. Paperwork is honestly the _worst,_ writing constantly about little things--”

His words stop dead. Alec turns, and at the same time, pulls his hood down.

Black hair, sharp jaw, a surprisingly controlled stubble -- and those _eyes._ Hazel, beautiful in the dim light of the moon, an artwork of orange, green and brown.

Those eyes, would he forget them? Magnus bets he will never.

Clearing his throat, Magnus takes one step closer, a smile forcing its way to his lips to try and hide his obvious attraction to the man standing in his _bedroom._ It feels like years since that day he first met him, yet only a week has passed.

Now, with him standing before him, Magnus wants to know everything, to have him stay and tell him the wonders of the world Magnus may not know yet. He believes everyone sees it differently, and there’s a mystery about Alec he can sense lingering in those gorgeous eyes of his.

“Sorry, I was on the verge of sneezing, but it seems I was fooled,” he mentally pats himself on the back for that cover up, “As I was saying, the little things they ask me to do can always be tedious.”

Not the little things about Alec though, like how he’s watching Magnus closely, a small frown present on his face. His arms lay idle by his side, but Magnus watches the hand that moves up to his neck, toying with the string on his hood and cape.

“You must have had a long journey,” Magnus swallows, looking away from the hand that he stupidly finds attractive, “Would you like some tea? Perhaps fresh orange--”

And he’s cut off again, this time with his lips still parted mid sentence.

Tension is pulled taut like a bow string, ready to fire. He feels his breath skip in pattern, dropping his eyes to Alec’s cape as it falls to the floor. Surely, he’s just making himself comfortable, disrespecting Magnus’ wish to keep his bedroom tidy out of jealous spite. He’s dealt with this before, and Alec won’t be the last.

But when Magnus flicks his focus back to Alec’s face, he sees determination, a deep, thrumming _fire_ that pulls at the King’s lungs. Surely no man should be able to look like that, to be able to pull him in with a simple look.

Magnus is a bad liar. _A really bad liar._

At least to himself.

Because he denies that he wants to reach out, to feel his fingers on that stubble, to run his fingers through that silky looking hair, to kiss those lips that press together in concentration.

Good _god,_ the images his brain conjures, it makes his knees shiver.

_No._

He can’t let temptation rule him, not when he stops listening to the blood rushing south and starts listening to the alarm bells going off.

To look past Alec’s gaze, to see the way his hands tremble as they hold the edge of his shirt, his eyes darting between Magnus and what he’s doing himself. He only starts doing that when he notices Magnus frown, Alec disappointed in himself.

Alec knows why he’s here, or what he believes to be the reason. To see Magnus frown, he must be doing something wrong.

Magnus knows he’s wrong, but what he sees in front of him, his words are reduced to mumbles and little harsh exhales. He hasn’t indulged in years, his heart broken beyond belief, and he refuses to bed another soul until they love him wholeheartedly first.

But _him, Alec,_ there’s something about him, the peculiar nature of him that makes Magnus want to commit the one sin he promised himself he would never do again.

Alec lifts his black shirt, slowly, teasing as his arms raise up. Magnus takes a step forward, unknown to Alec as the rustle of fabric against his ears numbs that sense for a few seconds.

Magnus was right, he’s built, _very_ built for just a farm worker. Yes, he knows it requires strength and stamina to do such a job, but Alec bares scars all over his torso. Surely there’s no way for him to gain those through farming, but if that kingdom is as awful as it was constantly, then Magnus can’t be surprised if the guards are a bunch of self entitled assholes as well.

If he reaches out, his magic could tell him the story of each one, the pain it caused him, the minute, the location --

“I’m yours,” Alec breathes out, and they aren’t genuine words Alec speaks, a faint hurt lining them.

The King cringes, pulling his hand back just as he goes to touch, Alec’s words breaking him from that daze of wanting to solve the mystery before him.

“No,” Magnus replies, almost stepping back when Alec closes the distance, “this is not you.”

“It’s not,” Alec mumbles in truthful reply, obvious nerves in his voice, “but you want this, don’t you?”

That’s when he looks up, and his lips are _right there,_ his eyes almost longing for it -- but he knows it’s a lie. Alec doesn’t want this, and neither does Magnus. It’s a simple biological need to calm that itch, _lust_ , sparked by the actions of one man. Yet Magnus can block that, as much as he dislikes it, he doesn’t feel a magnetic pull or the physical _strain_ on his lungs because of the raw emotion he feels. Between them now, hunger is the only thing they can resolve, nothing else, but Magnus didn’t invite him here to do that.

“When I said you could repay me by spending a night here, I did not mean to bed you,” Magnus drops his focus from Alec’s eyes to his lips, watching his tongue dart out to wet them, watching him struggle for words, “Do you really think that low of me?”

“Isn’t it what every King wants?” Alec replies, his tone a notch lower now, almost like he’s caught in a daze like Magnus was.

“Not me.” Stepping back, Magnus smiles softly, walking around him to collect his shirt from the floor.

When he stands back up, Alec looks -- _hurt?_

“Am I not good enough for you? Do the scars scare you? Does my nerves shake your confidence in me to perform?”

Magnus offers his shirt back, sighing as the self hatred pours as poison from Alec’s lips.

Gods, _no_. Alec is gorgeous, and Magnus is surprised in himself that he didn’t give in to such angelic beauty. A few centuries back, he may have, but there’s something about Alec that tells him no, to wait -- to learn this man as a man, not a throw of pleasure and singing to the moon.

“You speak so low of yourself, do you not know how generally beautiful you are?” and with that confession, Alec frowns.

“Then what is the problem?” Alec looks down at the shirt Magnus now carries. Perhaps the colour of clothing he’s wearing? Does he smell?

“As much as I want to kiss you, as much as many hours in bed with you sound _heavenly_ to me, now is not the right time, nor was it my intention. I invited you to learn more about you, your interests, favourite colour, that type of thing.” He gestures his hand to the couch opposite them, red, long enough to fit Alec laying down.

Alec is overwhelmed.

First, he felt this hunger for Magnus that might have been his spells or brainwashing magic -- soon concluding to himself that it was normal feelings, a wish to be with someone, to kiss him and hold him for endless hours.

He finds him attractive, for sure, and Alec can’t take his eyes off him. From the gold of his outfit to the deep brown of his eyes -- he’s simply gorgeous.

Despite this, they still don’t act on it. Alec saw how much his eyes lidded when he lifted his shirt, the spark of something inside Magnus that made the room boil. At least it did for Alec, breath caught in his lungs when he saw Magnus reaching out --

Then he had to say it, to try and play along, to give him power when he already has it. Alec wonders what would’ve happened if he stayed silent.

“You--,” clicking his tongue in disbelief, Alec almost laughs, “You want to know about _me?”_

“I’m quite certain I’ve made that a fact in my previous words, yes. Do not fret, I do very much like you, but I would prefer to get to know you before we spend hours upon hours tossing and turning.”

Just him saying that brings images to Alec’s head, scenes that play out in slow motion, his throat growing dry;

_Magnus pulling his hair --_

_Red sheets wrapped around his legs as they toss and turn, lips together --_

_Magnus whispering his name in plea --_

When Alec forces himself back to reality, Magnus is staring at him strangely. _Oh, shit._ He asked him a question. “Pardon?”

“Tea, or perhaps some juice?” Magnus repeats, smiling to himself because he understands that lost gaze anywhere, Alec being lost in fantasy. It wasn’t long ago Magnus was in his own with Alec too.

“Tea would be fine,” Alec replies, quickly coughing to clear his throat when Magnus begins to walk away, _“I mean_ \-- tea, please.”

Alec feels the sound before he hears it, the chuckle, light and free. Magnus smiles at him, shaking his head at Alec’s forgotten manners. He doesn’t blame him, because depending on how deep that fantasy was, it was no doubt difficult to break free.

Placing his shirt back on, Alec finds himself confused, completely dumbfounded. Magnus is going against everything he thought he would do, granted he almost gave in to Alec’s bare torso, but Alec was pulled in too.

He’s -- _stunning, magical, intriguing, confusing --_ and Alec can’t stop himself from biting the inside of his cheek because he _really just_ _did that._

Grumbling to himself, he picks up his hood and cape, walking over to the red couch and sitting down. He sits rather straight, slightly hunched as he holds the fabrics in his hand.

This is going to be a long night, and Alec, for some reason, feels like it’s going to be the first of many.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to lucy for reading this one through! <3


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